


Wildest Dreams

by plainlystars



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Johnny's Jr., SnowMan (band)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 41,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7498581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plainlystars/pseuds/plainlystars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miyadate's falling deeper and deeper in his dreams while his relationship with Watanabe seems to be failing. Soon, he loses the ability to distinguish between reality and dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wildest Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> [Inception AU] I honestly hope this isn't confusing...but (if it is?) I'm open to discussions anytime! Thanking N & J for going through tiny and big details with me at the very beginning, I for listening to me whine about everything in the process of writing and eternally grateful to my sis for beta-ing!

In Miyadate’s dreams, he’s a successful investor, owns a black Porsche and a penthouse in the most expensive area in Tokyo. In his dreams, he’s happily married to his childhood crush, his high school lover and his eternal soulmate. In his dreams, his life is perfect. Though, of course, it couldn't be anything less than perfect. Because in his dreams is a world he has constructed by himself.

 

The door slams shut and it jolts Miyadate from his daydream.

Reality is a far cry from his dreams. 

He hasn’t had any proper sleep in a month because he’s been working overtime every day, he and his team clearing up some loose ends of an employee who left the company and a whole lot of trouble behind.

Staring at the shut door with a lifeless expression, Miyadate pondered whether or not to give chase. Not knowing what to do, he covers his face and slumps against the couch like he had just fought and lost a long battle. He wonders when he'll see Watanabe again. Maybe next year. He doesn’t actually know Watanabe’s schedule. He doesn’t know when his husband is coming back. He doesn’t know how long this job will take. He doesn’t remember. He stays seated, not wanting to move even an inch.

By the time he finally chooses to leave the spot on the couch, four hours have passed. He goes straight for his – _their_ – room.

It’s cold and unnervingly quiet, as if no one had stepped into this room in forever. No one has in fact. Watanabe has been holed up building dreams for other extractors that are not Miyadate who in turn has been sleeping on the couch, unwilling to sleep next to an empty spot on the bed.

Their marriage photo hangs above their bed, a painful reminder of the happiness they used to have. Their blinding smiles filled with joy and love seem to be a mockery of their current strained relationship.

They haven't been talking a lot because of Watanabe getting too much extra (and unnecessary in Miyadate’s opinion) work. Undeniably, Watanabe is a good architect. It’s simply in his genes to be careful and meticulous, crafting every dream with thought and precision, not missing out even the slightest details like algae on the walls of old, vintage buildings. 

Still, isn’t it too much?

Everyone in the dream sharing society knows that Watanabe is married - knows that _they’re_ married. It isn’t fair that Watanabe gets paired up with every damned extractor in the world except his husband. Miyadate isn’t the best extractor out there, not even close to being the best, but his skills aren't rusty. They don’t pale in comparison to others, especially not to the extractors Watanabe had been working with recently. Yet, Miyadate has never been called to work with Watanabe before and he doesn’t think that day will come any time soon.

On top of that, Miyadate finds himself receiving less job offers. It might have something to do with him failing his previous job but failures happen; he isn’t the first nor will he be the last.

There isn’t anything he can do though, so he sucks it up, gets on with life and lives with the self-deprecating conviction that's he’s probably the most useless extractor in the dream sharing society. Once upon a time, Watanabe was there to hold his hand and assure him that he’s one of the best extractors he has ever met. Although Miyadate liked to ask ‘who's the best then?’. It was a question Watanabe would swiftly avoid. Maybe Watanabe was overseas with that best extractor now. Probably. Who knows? Not Miyadate that's for sure. He’s stopped keeping track of the jobs Watanabe get - there’s too many - and it wasn't like Watanabe made it a point to keep him in the know either.

While he hasn’t had many job offers in the dream sharing world as of late, his job as an investor in the real world is surely keeping him busy down to his toes. Perhaps this is another reason why he doesn’t get as many jobs as Watanabe does - he isn’t a full time dream sharer like his husband. Though his skills are on par to those full timers if he were to say so himself. Even Watanabe had agreed once.

Miyadate stares at their wedding photo and has half a mind to remove it. Only one of them is here anyway.

He walks over to the picture frame and slowly places his hands on the sides of the brown rosewood as he contemplates removing the photo one last time. All it takes is one glance at Watanabe’s radiant smile for him to let go and slump down against the headboard instead. Were they once so happy?

Lying in his bed – _their_ – bed with his eyes closed, he considers what life without Watanabe would be like, though it proves to be quite a difficult task seeing that he can’t even remember a single point in his life when Watanabe hasn’t been by his side. Perks of knowing each other since three.

Unable to keep up with these thoughts, Miyadate opens his eyes and turns to his side, fixating his gaze on the bedside table where Watanabe has left his glasses - one of the many reminders that Watanabe is still in Miyadate’s life.

Subconsciously, Miyadate has already removed his wedding ring and he surprises himself when he feels the cool metal ring in the heart of his palm. He doesn’t press it. Instead, he throws it to the side of the bed where Watanabe usually sleeps (when he is at home anyway) and wonders if this was how he threw his own happiness away – out of frustration, without a thought. He stares at it, wishing that it would bend and fold if he imagines hard enough. But the ring shape stays the same and it convinces Miyadate that this isn’t a dream. Who is he kidding? They've been like this for as long as he can remember. His mind can’t change reality.

Still, his gaze lingers on the ring a little while longer before he shifts his eyes to the bedroom ceiling where painted stars glow dimly in the dark. He remembers painting them for Watanabe; the first thing he did in their newly bought house when they just got married. The glow-in-the-dark paint wasn't cheap - Miyadate remembers that much too. But he also remembers the first time Watanabe saw the glowing paint on the walls of Abe and Sakuma's house in the shape of horses stretched across their living room wall as if they were galloping on the field and how he had sighed wistfully, saying how he wished he could look at them every day. That was when Miyadate decided to paint their ceiling. Being his practical self, there was no way he would paint horses on the ceiling as if they were unicorns prancing in the sky. So he settled for stars, so that Watanabe would have the whole sky with him.

One other thing he would never forget would be how Watanabe’s face had lit up upon seeing the handicraft and how he had pressed many kisses to his face in between giggles and mouthful of ‘thank you’s and ‘I love you’s.

But that was all in the past. They were once happy.

Miyadate knows he could dream it up again, seeing as he could still remember every detail so explicitly. Though he also knows that as a dream sharer, he isn’t supposed to dream about the past or real life places and people. It was a dangerous thing to do; he might be stuck in the dream and never wake up. Or he might come back to reality feeling lost and eventually going insane. There have been such cases before and he definitely wouldn't be the last if it ever happened to him. He’s too afraid to try anyway. 

In the end, it is the thought of Watanabe being alone and feeling heartbroken that stops Miyadate from dreaming wildly and not his fear of losing himself.

Tilting his head to the side, his eyes land on his wedding ring and again, he wills it to bend. But it remains a solid silver. Exasperated, Miyadate grabs the ring and slides it back onto his fourth finger.

Sleep is what he needs now. Dreams are what he needs. But he has long lost the ability to dream naturally. Maybe he could try again? It’s been a long time since he last tried dreaming naturally anyway. He’s usually too tired from work to even try dreaming and when he receives job offers from the dream sharing world, he always uses the PASIV machine because that's the only way he can share dreams with others.

On the bedside table, the small digital clock reads 04:00 and Miyadate knows that it’s going to be another night where sleep eludes him.

The PASIV machine by his bed looks exceedingly inviting.

 

As soon as the first rays of sunlight seep through his translucent pale blue curtains (he didn’t bother with closing the second thicker layer that are dyed maroon), he pushes himself up and off the bed to go about doing his daily routine. It’s Monday and he should be getting ready for work but he already applied for a whole week of leave in advance knowing that Watanabe was leaving last night. Seeing how busy his team is, he really shouldn't have but he did anyway, despite his boss’ pleads. Maybe he would finally get fired.

Chances are unlikely though as it would be difficult to find someone replacing someone as capable as Miyadate.

He spends a few more minutes lying in bed, basking in the thoughts of how accomplished he is at work and nearly starts when he hears the doorbell ringing furiously.

“Iwamoto…” Miyadate grumbles and flips over to his side to cover one ear and pulls a pillow over the other ear. The doorbell doesn’t stop ringing, prompting Miyadate to curse loudly before forcing himself off the bed and padding angrily towards the door. “Iwamoto,” he hisses certainly before opening the door, which is why he finds himself surprised when he comes face to face with Abe instead.

“Ryota!” Abe exclaims in a voice too loud to Miyadate’s liking. What happened to the usually calm Abe Ryohei? “You took forever to open the door! I was so worried!”

“Abe-chan, relax.”

“I thought something happened to you.”

“Abe-chan.”

“I thought you connected yourself to the - ”

What Miyadate intended to say dies straight in his throat immediately as he hears Abe finish his sentence.

“ - PASIV machine again and couldn't wake up. Remember we had Hikaru literally banging down your front door the other time which made Shota so angry when he found out? Talking about Shota, where is Shota?”

Miyadate grimaces and turns his back, not bothering to close the door, allowing Abe to invite himself in.

“He isn’t here.” Miyadate makes himself comfortable on his velvet L-shaped couch. “He left last night.”

Abe's eyes widen in surprise. “He’s due to leave in two days though.”

Upon receiving that piece of news, Miyadate goes deadly silent, making Abe shift around uncomfortably before he chooses to sit near Miyadate.

“He didn't tell you?” Abe asks tentatively.

“No,” comes Miyadate’s instant response before he quickly shakes his head to correct himself. “No, as in, he did tell me.” He pauses and clenches his fingers over his boxers. “He just decided to leave earlier.” A simple lie.

“Right,” Abe deadpans.

Maybe an obvious lie too.

“You guys fought,” Abe concludes without Miyadate saying anything further.

The exchange ends there and Abe sighs before getting up to walk over to sit next to Miyadate. “We're here if you need to talk to us. Me, Sakuma, Hikaru and Fukka. We're here for you, Ryota. And Shota of course but you know how he is. He wouldn't approach us first. Fukka will be joining him for this job so just give him a call if you need to pass Shota a message, okay?”

Miyadate doesn’t need to say anything for Abe to understand that silence means consent so he leaves it at that.

“You want to join me and Sakuma for coffee?” Abe asks heartily, chuckling a little at the end, bringing a smile to Miyadate’s face.

“It’s okay,” Miyadate replies sincerely, giving Abe the widest smile he can muster (which doesn’t look the least bit cheery). “Wouldn't wanna interrupt your date.”

How Abe still manages to blush after all this time never ceases to amuse Miyadate.

“It isn’t a date!”

Miyadate chuckles, waving a dismissive hand at Abe. “Don't keep him waiting,” he jokes, earning an eye roll from Abe.

The younger boy gets off the couch and stares at Miyadate with a concerned face. But Miyadate shakes his head, brushing off whatever Abe intended to say.

“I’ll see you around, Ryota,” Abe says sadly before walking towards the door. His hand stops at the handle and then he turns around to face the other. “We'll see you around.”

“You guys sure will,” Miyadate jokes and laughs about it shortly until Abe glares at him.

“And give Fukka a call,” Abe advises when he finally pushes the door open. “I mean it,” he continues when Miyadate doesn’t reply. Though he walks out before Miyadate even opens his mouth (not that the latter even intended to answer in the first place).

 

The PASIV machine still looks tempting and Miyadate almost injects somnacin into his bloodstream until he hears Watanabe’s voice telling him not to dream as if the other knows about what he intends to dream about. Miyadate lets his hand fall to his side and the syringe rolls onto the floor from his loosened grip.

 

Another day without Watanabe by Miyadate’s side. Another day without Watanabe being in Miyadate’s life.

Okay, maybe Miyadate is being over-dramatic. After all, Watanabe is only a phone call away.

Miyadate glares at the device as if it personally offended him and he wonders if Watanabe will give in first and send him a text. No such luck for him seeing how his phone screen isn’t lighting up even after fifteen minutes of endless staring and fruitless hoping.

It’s going to be another lazy day, lounging on the sofa and watching the reruns of the romcoms Watanabe loves, Miyadate decides. But as things have been lately, his plan doesn’t go his way when he hears loud banging on the door. This time, he’s sure it’s Iwamoto outside and he swears to himself that his fist would connect to Iwamoto's jaw if the other's fist lands on his door one more time.

As if the person outside could read his mind, the insistent and violent pounding against the door ceases much to Miyadate’s joy.

“Iwamoto,” Miyadate greets the moment he pulls open his door, not even bothering to spare the other boy a glance before retreating back to the couch.

“Took you long enough.” Iwamoto walks through the front door after putting his shoes aside.

“I have a doorbell,” Miyadate says calmly. “You and Abe-chan need to learn some manners.”

“And you need to get your doorbell fixed,” Iwamoto replies casually as he makes himself comfortable on the couch, ignoring Miyadate’s bewildered stare. “Besides, what if you were connected to the PASIV machine again?”

Listening to Iwamoto talk about all these is making Miyadate’s blood run cold and he doesn’t know why. Doesn’t know why the younger boy is talking about all of these either.

“The doorbell wouldn't have woken you up and I'd have to break your door again and get scolded by Shota.” Iwamoto shivers slightly at the memory. “Besides, you were the one who told us to bang your door if you ever fell asleep using the PASIV machine.”

It’s too much information Miyadate cannot process. “One at a time,” he bites out while glaring at Iwamoto. “So my doorbell's spoilt?”

“Shota told Fukka,” Iwamoto explains.

Right. And he didn't bother telling Miyadate.

“And I tried ringing it too. Didn't work, obviously.”

Also, Miyadate might be a little bit of an idiot.

“And what’s this about me connecting myself to the PASIV machine and not being able to wake up?” Miyadate frowns as he searches his memories, trying to recall a time he had last been so lost. “Abe-chan said the same thing.”

Iwamoto sighs. “You don’t remember, do you? It’s okay. Take it as I never said that.”

The younger boy is trying to end the topic, Miyadate knows that. But something tells him that there’s something important that he has to know, and he can only know it if he asks more. Miyadate’s about to ask more questions when Iwamoto beats him to talking first.

“Abe-chan came over yesterday?”

Trust Iwamoto to be such a brilliant topic shifter.

“He was going on a date with Sakuma. Decided to drop by I think.”

Iwamoto hums as he looks around the house. “It’s pretty messy here.”

“It gets messy when Shota isn’t around.”

“You know what I mean,” Iwamoto says sternly, shocking Miyadate. “Even your keys…” the younger boy gestures toward the haphazardly stacked pile of watches and accessories on the living room's glass table; amongst them Miyadate’s car key. “They’re in the wrong place.”

Fear creeps into Miyadate’s mind as he subconsciously brings his right hand to his left fingers. All the while, Iwamoto's eyes are closely following the movement. Miyadate touches the silver band wrapped around his fourth finger gently, not daring to exert any more force. It feels solid. But is it?

All Iwamoto does is shake his head before turning around to leave. “Call us if you need help.”

They both don’t bother saying ‘goodbye’ as Iwamoto walks out the door, closing the door behind him softly.

Only minutes later does Miyadate press his ring and heaves a sigh of relief at the solid feel. He contemplates pulling off his ring but thinks otherwise.

Thinking back to what Iwamoto said, he stares at his car keys. They do seem a little out of place. But where do they belong then? Without Watanabe around, Miyadate is like a compass that has lost its bearings. He doesn’t know where things belong, doesn’t know their right places and he feels lost.

Watanabe is only a phone call away, Miyadate knows that and he’s extremely close to pressing Watanabe’s speed dial number - 5 - when he spots a picture frame of them in Paris for their honeymoon four years ago. But he doesn’t dial the number and throws his phone aside instead.

 

After wasting a whole day, Miyadate finds himself lying on his bed feeling listless once again. He stares at the digital clock, willing time to go faster but it doesn’t like it would in a dream. Giving up, he stares at the starry ceiling wondering if Watanabe is looking at a similar night sky too. Maybe not. Since it is probably morning in the US.

No use moping over Watanabe, Miyadate tries convincing himself but he still sighs when he catches a glimpse of one of their wedding photos from his peripheral view.

The next time he looks at the clock, an hour has passed but he feels sceptical about it, being rather certain that he hasn't been lying there for an hour. But who knows?

Or maybe... Miyadate plays with the ring wrapped around his fourth finger and runs a finger along the smooth edge. Quickly, he pulls off the ring and holds it in his palm to observe it. Gently, he touches the ring once, then twice before pressing down. 

He closes his fingers around his palm and places his clenched fist over his heart as he turns to his side, holding his wedding ring close to his heart to sleep.

 

 

Miyadate wakes up to the door slamming.

A brief glance at the table calendar tells Miyadate that it’s the day Watanabe is leaving.

This scene feels familiar and Miyadate wonders if he’s experiencing déjà vu. Has he dreamt about this before or is it something that has already happened and he’s dreaming a repeat of the events?

Even though he already looked at the physical calendar, he isn’t sure. Belatedly, he notices that his wedding ring is gone from his fourth finger. It must have fallen off last night, Miyadate concluded as he tried to recall last night's events but failed.

Times like these make him feel the need for extra confirmation so he immediately looks around for another calendar before realising that there’s one right in his smart phone. Genius moments.

It’s Tuesday, the day Watanabe is supposed to leave.

Two calendars can’t be wrong about the date right?

And then he subconsciously remembers bits of their conversation from the night before. He closes his eyes shut, trying to draw that memory and hold on to it, listening intently to the voices in his mind.

_“Ryota, I’m leaving tomorrow,” Watanabe says as he attempts to drag his suitcase out of their shared wardrobe._

_Miyadate’s fingers stop moving over the laptop's keyboard. “So soon?”_

_“I told you about this job, remember?” Watanabe questions and finally succeeds in pulling his suitcase onto the floor. “My flight's at seven so you can drive me to the airport before going to work.”_

_Demanding. As usual. It makes Miyadate scoff. “Whatever you say.”_

_“So you’ll have to get up around five you know and I’ll be up even earlier so don’t complain.”_

The digital clock on their bedside table reads 5.30.

“Oh shit,” Miyadate curses before scrambling out of the bed. Watanabe is definitely angry.

Speeding through his daily routine, Miyadate almost forgets his car keys just as he’s about to step out the door. Though he’s unable to find them in their usual place - a seashell acting as a makeshift bowl left atop a small table near the door. Immediately, he looks at the glass table in the living room where he would usually dump his keys when Watanabe isn’t around to pack, but he doesn’t find them there either.

Looking closely into the seashell, he finds a piece of paper inside. On it is Watanabe’s messy scrawl as if he was in a rush (he probably was).

_I need the car. I’m running late thanks to you. Hikaru will drive it back in time for you to go to work. I’ll call you when I land._

_Love,  
M.Shota_

Unable to help himself, Miyadate’s eyes linger on how Watanabe had signed off, a dumb grin his face.

For someone who vehemently insisted on retaining his surname in every official document, Watanabe sure has no problem signing off as ‘Miyadate’.

Although Miyadate is pretty sure that Watanabe would deny ever signing off like that - even with evidence - or just say it was an accident, from being too used to writing Miyadate’s name all the time.

The vibration of his hand phone snaps him out of his daydream and he pulls it out to find a message from Watanabe.

_“You up yet, sleepyhead?”_

It brings a sweet smile to Miyadate’s face but his response is anything but sweet.

_“Yeah. It’s hard not to wake up to the sound of a door slamming.”_

For a moment, his thumb hovers above the ‘send’ button. The ring on his finger feels heavy.

After a moment of contemplation, Miyadate finally presses send before he places his phone on the table. Immediately after, his right hand flies over to his left where his wedding ring fits perfectly on his fourth finger.

And a perfect fit it remains.

A reply comes quickly, snapping Miyadate out of a daze he was about to fall into.

_“I haven't boarded the plane...will you come?”_

There isn’t a moment of hesitation as Miyadate hurriedly types _‘I’m coming’_. He rushes out of the house to the cab waiting area. He waits for approximately ten minutes before he hops onto a cab, finally thinking to read Watanabe’s reply.

_“That's fast. Early in the morning nonetheless.”_

Miyadate rolls his eyes at the lewd insinuation and pockets his phone, choosing to stare out the window instead.

“Where to, sir?” The cab driver asks politely. “You haven't said a word since you entered,” he points out kindly.

“Oh,” Miyadate says, abashed. “The airport.”

From the rear view mirror, he sees the driver giving a brief nod before focusing his eyes on the road. Leaning his head against the window, Miyadate starts to feel the fatigue set in and the accumulation of stress from his work and people seeping into his bones, lulling him gently to sleep.

 

It comes suddenly. And Miyadate jerks awake. Before he could fully comprehend what is going on, he hears the tires of the taxi screeching against the rough ground. From his peripheral vision, he sees another car skidding over, slamming into the taxi’s side. The impact shatters the windows and pieces of glass shards fly towards Miyadate as he shields his face with his arm, the glass making numerous cuts on his skin. 

But the vehicle is still moving and trepidation pools in the pits of Miyadate’s stomach when he finds the driver unconscious. He needs to get out. Frantically, he pulls at the door handle but no matter how hard he tries, the lock remains unyielding, sending Miyadate into a flurry of panic.

Looking ahead, he sees a wall and he immediately ducks behind the backseat, bracing himself for the impact and the inevitable. The collision happens and Miyadate feels his world turning upside down. He sees Watanabe’s face as his eyelids droop and his mind becomes fuzzy.

Was he going to the airport to see Watanabe off? Why? Weren't they quarrelling?

Tendrils of darkness seep into his vision as his mind fogs up, slowly slipping into unconsciousness. The last thing he hears is the blare of the siren.

 

Miyadate feels consciousness slowly seeping back to him as he wakes to a steady beeping noise. His breathing is shallow and his eyelids feel heavy. There’s an oxygen mask attached to his mouth, telling him that he’s in the hospital now, that he’s in good care, though his hands and legs feel numb.

There are people around him. Quiet voices, the shuffling of feet and shoulders brushing. He can hear them, can even feel them. But he can’t see anything; he doesn’t know who's around.

Then he hears a sob. Faint recognition clouds his mind as he searches for a face to put to that voice. It’s a voice he knows very well. The next minute, he hears footsteps leaving and hushed conversations. All he manages to catch is one thing.

“He won't make it.”

Once again, consciousness escapes him.

 

“Wake up, Ryota.”

It sounds like Iwamoto but Miyadate’s pretty certain he’s dreaming.

“Ryota!”

Instantly, Miyadate’s eyes snap open and he’s face to face with a furious Iwamoto.

“I can’t believe you did that! And don’t you dare stay silent.”

“I…” then Miyadate falls silent, causing Iwamoto to narrow his eyes. Truthfully, Miyadate expects a light punch to his arm as warning (not that Iwamoto would do anything more), but instead the younger boy sighs and grabs a chair to sit by Miyadate’s bed.

“Shota came by,” Iwamoto starts and there’s a slight twitch in Miyadate’s fingers but Iwamoto pays no mind to it. “You've been asleep for two days. Shota came over as soon as he landed. He took the earliest flight back.” Perhaps Iwamoto could sense Miyadate’s confusion so he continued. “Yes, he was upset when you didn’t show up but he really loves you, you know?” There’s slight shift in Iwamoto’s tone but Miyadate chooses not to fixate on it.

When Miyadate doesn’t say a word or even move his arm, Iwamoto frowns.

“Don’t go back to sleep, I’m warning you.” But no one ever takes Iwamoto’s warnings seriously anyway and Miyadate feels his eyelids drooping.

He tries his best to stay awake but by the time Iwamoto mentions the PASIV machine, Miyadate realises that he has long tuned the younger man out and is unable to comprehend or keep up with what the other is saying. Though, he still acts like he’s listening.

His act obviously fails since Iwamoto snaps, “Are you listening to me at all? I know you aren’t. Should I get Shota here?”

“No,” Miyadate immediately says in a barely audible voice, making Iwamoto squint his eyes.

“Finally opening your mouth to talk, Mr ‘I’m in a coma’?” 

_‘I am’_ , Miyadate wants to argue but he chooses to keep quiet, not wanting another sarcastic remark from Iwamoto. He’d really much rather have Abe or Sakuma with him. They’re not as aggressive as Iwamoto, especially Abe.

As if Miyadate could control the way things go, the hospital ward’s door slides open, revealing Abe.

“Ryota? You’re awake?”

It’s Iwamoto who answers. “He woke up a while ago. He even talked.”

“What did he say?” Abe asks, genuine concern lacing his voice.

“I asked him if he wanted Shota over and he said no.”

By this time, they’re acting like Miyadate isn’t even around. Abe is nodding understandingly with a frown on his face and Iwamoto just looks done with Miyadate.

For a while, they remain like this; Abe and Iwamoto exchanging knowing glances and discussing softly about something Miyadate is absolutely clueless about. He’s about to go back to sleep when he feels a pair of eyes on him.

Abe regards him for a moment longer before opening his mouth to speak. “Just stay awake okay, Ryota? Whatever it is with Shota…” he pauses, contemplates then starts again. “Whatever it is with Shota, don’t worry about it. We'll help you with it.”

It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense to Miyadate now. He stares at Abe as questions flood his mind, giving himself a splitting headache. Then he looks at Iwamoto and the latter is looking back, worried. Miyadate wants to say something, anything. He needs answers, he wants to ask questions but he finds that he doesn’t have that strength in him. He’s too tired.

And he gives in to that tiredness, eyes closing shut despite both Iwamoto and Abe’s loud protests. A long beeping sound echoes throughout the room as he loses consciousness.

 

When Miyadate opens his eyes again, he’s in a familiar hallway. The one he had walked past almost every day for three years of his life. He’s standing in one of the corridors in his high school. But he doesn’t remember coming back to visit or making any plans to visit at all. Even if he does have plans, he would have made them with Watanabe who isn’t here. So why is he here?

Realisation dawns on him in the next moment. And his right hand flies to his fourth finger as he fumbles while pulling off his wedding ring. Slowly, he presses the hard metal steel, except, it’s malleable now. He watches with interest as he squashes the ring before moulding it back to its original shape then keeping it in his pocket. Meeting high school Watanabe while wearing a wedding ring would surely scare the other off.

He doesn’t know why he’s here. He doesn’t know why he wants to see high school Watanabe again. While he does love that period of his life most, he had lived it already and has moved on to a better and brighter future with Watanabe.

Reminiscing, he slowly paces down the hall, looking at the familiar bulletin boards and trophy-filled glass cabinets. Then he turns a corner and sees the classrooms. The hall is silent, but he can hear the buzzing fans from the classrooms, indicating that lessons are ongoing.

Not wanting to disturb the classes, he takes a step back and walks away, not having a specific place to go to in mind and not knowing where his feet is taking him to. He rounds a few corners and climbs a few flights of steps before he finds himself in the cafeteria. Of course, he thinks as he walks over to the drink stall to grab a carton of strawberry milk. Then he sees a row of fresh milk cartons and contemplates for a brief second before picking one up as well, paying for both.

The bell is going to ring any second. Miyadate finds a place to sit as he waits for the bell to ring before making his way to the courtyard where Watanabe would usually be at, hanging out with his friends and losing at games.

The high ringing sound cuts through the air and Miyadate is up on his feet. His palms are starting to sweat and he doesn’t know why he feels so nervous about meeting a younger Watanabe.

It’s empty when he reaches the courtyard so he leans against a stone wall while he waits, tapping his feet impatiently against the ground. Students start streaming in and some throw him curious looks but he ignores them. It must be rather odd for them to see a middle-aged man leaning against their school walls with a milk carton in each hand. He'd find himself weird too. But as it is, he couldn't possibly chicken out and leave the school now. 

Not when he sees Watanabe walking down the stairs with a bounce in his step, talking loudly with a group of boys. Miyadate smiles but doesn’t attempt to move. The group passes him without paying him any attention but Watanabe does turn around and stare before one of his friends is pulling him forward by the arm.

They’re playing stupid games as always, and Miyadate reminds himself this is why he never hangs out with Watanabe during break time since he isn’t good at them anyway. Watanabe always lost anyway and Miyadate failed to see the reason why Watanabe should play at all.

As expected, Watanabe loses and he’s handing his milk carton over to another boy with a pout on his face and Miyadate chuckles to himself, thinking back fondly to a memory. 

Back in high school, he knew about these juvenile games. He also knew how often Watanabe lost but he never knew what the stakes were. It was only until the day he looked out the classroom window from and saw Watanabe giving up his milk carton while pouting the whole way did Miyadate find out what they were. Many a time, he had wanted to run to the cafeteria to buy Watanabe a new carton but he never managed to stir up that kind of courage.

Now he could.

Taking in a deep breath, he approaches Watanabe’s group steadily, attracting looks he isn’t going to concern himself with. Instead, he wonders how he should address Watanabe without looking like a creep. He could go with ‘Watanabe-san’ but he’s sure that would sound weird leaving his mouth.

So he goes with what he’s been calling Watanabe all his life. “Shota.”

At the sound of his voice and the mention of Watanabe’s first name, the group turns to him, and so do some passer-bys. Suddenly, he feels old and self-conscious as he approaches his... boyfriend? Maybe he should have given this a second thought. 

Too late though.

Watanabe looks stunned, feet frozen to the ground. And Miyadate has never felt so stupid before. Seconds stretch into minutes and Miyadate isn’t sure how long has passed but he heaves a sigh of relief when Watanabe finally smiles, mischief sparkling in his eyes. Then Watanabe nods in recognition, surprising Miyadate. This time, it’s Miyadate who is glued to the spot as Watanabe jogs over and attaches himself to Miyadate’s right arm, smiling up to him and mouthing _Ryota_ before grabbing the fresh milk carton and letting go of Miyadate’s arm.

“Is this for me?” Watanabe asks happily while tearing the straw from the box and then poking it through the hole to start sipping. Miyadate hasn't said anything.

They’re eventually left alone, and Watanabe clings onto Miyadate’s arm again as the latter stares at the high schooler in disbelief.

“You recognise me?” Miyadate manages despite his shock.

“Am I not supposed to?” Watanabe asks cutely around the straw as he tilts his head to the side slightly. All gimmicks; Miyadate knows better. “I just didn't expect you to turn up so old.”

Of course that is Watanabe’s concern. “I’m not a forger.” Miyadate grimaces and Watanabe’s eyes widen comically. It isn’t a feign this time.

After looking around, Watanabe beckons Miyadate to bend down. Lowering his voice in a dramatic manner, he asks, “So we're still doing that when we grow up?”

Miyadate pulls away, shooting Watanabe a confused look but Watanabe merely gestures for Miyadate to come closer again. Miyadate complies.

“Dream,” Watanabe whispers out, sounding overwhelmed.

“Yeah,” Miyadate answers easily with a smile. “We still dream.”

Then Watanabe’s face lights up and Miyadate’s heart feels warm.

“So we work in the dream industry?”

It is an easy enough question but Miyadate hesitates and Watanabe sends him a questioning gaze. “You do,” then he pauses and eyes Watanabe, searching the other's face for some kind of reaction but he finds nothing. “I don’t.”

“What do I work as?” Watanabe’s ignoring what Miyadate has just said.

“You’re an architect,” Miyadate informs him simply and a small smile appears on his face when Watanabe beams at him. Working as an architect has always been Watanabe’s dream. He wanted to be one so badly that he’d even dream about it sometimes.

“Please tell me you’re at least a part-time extractor?” Watanabe sounds timid, confusing Miyadate a little.

“I am.”

“Good. Good. That's enough I guess.” The smile on Watanabe’s face looks forced but Miyadate doesn’t prod.

 

The doorbell is ringing ceaselessly and Miyadate has no choice but to drag himself out from his cozy comforter to go to his front door. Peering through the peephole, Miyadate awakens fully and immediately unlatches the chain while fumbling a little. With more force than necessary, Miyadate pulls open the door, startling his late-night visitor - Watanabe Shota.

They stare at each other, seemingly unsure about what to say. Watanabe is the first to break eye contact. The younger boy, still in his school uniform, grins at the ground, a slight red blush dusting his cheek. 

Miyadate narrows his eyes suspiciously; something is up, Watanabe’s always been playful and that hasn’t changed even now that he’s an adult. “What is it now? What do you want?”

This earns Miyadate a scoff and Watanabe simply smiles before pushing Miyadate out of the way, inviting himself in. He starts inspecting the place, going into the kitchen and checking out the stove then touching the sofa before entering the master bedroom.

Upon seeing the messy bed, Watanabe gives in to his urge of jumping on the queen-sized bed, burying his face into the pillow. It smells like Miyadate’s shampoo. Deciding that he’s comfortable, he throws his schoolbag aside, not caring where it lands and is about to go to sleep when Miyadate starts talking from the doorway.

“You’re dirty.”

Pleased that Miyadate remembers his fondness of cleanliness, Watanabe smiles to himself. Of course Miyadate would remember that. After all, he’s the creator of this dream. “You can dream my bacteria away.”

All Watanabe gets in response is a snort before he feels the bed dip. “What are you doing here, hm?” Miyadate asks gently, unable to stop himself from running his fingers through Watanabe’s messy locks, eliciting a contented hum from the teen.

“Getting to know you,” Watanabe answers, voice muffled by the silky pillow. “You’ll be here for a while, won’t you?”

Honestly, Miyadate doesn’t know how long he would be staying in this dream layer. He doesn’t even know how deep in he is anymore. And quite frankly speaking, he doesn’t want to find out. How long can he stay in this layer though?

More importantly, Miyadate is perplexed by Watanabe reading his mind so easily. He isn’t one to let his emotions show on his face; he isn’t like Watanabe. He’s also pretty certain that he hasn’t let any information slip to his projections, especially not to Watanabe. There can only be one explanation then – his subconscious. It is inevitable for projections to listen to his inner thoughts. The thing is they usually choose not to act on it, but Watanabe is different.

“Why are you dreaming about me?” Watanabe is no longer snuggling into the pillow and his voice is now louder and clearer, snapping Miyadate out of his thoughts. “I’m sure there are better versions of me out there. Can’t think of any? How about…” Watanabe purses his lips and adopts a thinking posture but Miyadate knows better. “The real me?”

Miyadate expected that. Watanabe is predictable like that. But he still gets caught off guard and stutters nonsensically, not knowing what to say.

“Hey, relax,” Watanabe tries calming him down, obviously taken aback by Miyadate’s reaction. “It’s just me. You don’t have to be so anxious.”

 _‘I’m not anxious,’_ Miyadate thinks but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he pushes Watanabe a little to the left so he can slide in under the covers. “Sleep,” he suggests and Watanabe leans back against Miyadate’s outstretched forearm, welcoming the offer wholeheartedly and moving closer to Miyadate until he’s resting his head on the other’s chest. Instantly, Miyadate’s arm comes up to hold Watanabe close.

“You can tell me another time,” Watanabe whispers against Miyadate’s broad chest after a while.

That doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Although Miyadate isn’t sure when ‘another time’ is or if it would even come. He isn’t ready to tell Watanabe anything. 

 

Miyadate doesn’t know how long he slept but his body clock wakes him up at 6.30am sharp just as his digital alarm clock starts beeping, cutting through the tranquillity of the room. His hand feels sore and tired and his body feels warm all over. He feels like he’s getting old.

When he tries to move his arm, he feels a weight on it and then remembers Watanabe turning up at his doorstep at 2am. It’s been a while since he has slept in. He moves his face closer to Watanabe, so close that he can see Watanabe’s eyelashes fanned out even in the dim light.

With how peaceful Watanabe looks, Miyadate thinks he can stay like this forever. Then he notes that Watanabe’s still in his school uniform and everything changes.

He yanks his arm away, hard, effectively waking the younger boy up as he turns to Miyadate with a scowl. “What was that for?”

“Don't you have school?” Miyadate conveniently ignores Watanabe’s question.

“It’s Saturday, asshole!”

Oh.

“Whatever.” Miyadate throws the covers off his body and makes a beeline for the adjacent toilet door. “Get off my bed.”

As his hand reaches the toilet’s doorknob, he hears Watanabe splutter and he can feel annoyance radiating off the other in waves. Always so dramatic. Choosing to ignore the other, Miyadate turns the doorknob and enters the toilet. He’s about to close the door when he feels a hand stopping him. Surprisingly, Watanabe has trailed that short distance after him to the toilet. It amuses Miyadate a little because he always thought only a crane would be able to get Watanabe out of bed.

“I need to brush my teeth,” Miyadate says plainly and attempts to close the door again but Watanabe has stuck his foot there already.

“Me too.”

“You can wait.”

“It’s my house too!”

“Oh, really?” Miyadate leans against the sink and stares at Watanabe lazily. Alright. Two can play this game.

A smirk creeps onto Watanabe’s face and Miyadate straightens his back, feeling wary about the situation. “This is practically my dream house.”

It’s game over for Miyadate in the blink of an eye, Watanabe can play this game by himself. In response, Miyadate opens and closes his mouth wordlessly, before pressing his lips together into a thin line.

“The kitchen stove,” Watanabe starts, a gleam in his eyes. “The couch. The master bedroom.” He looks over to the bathtub with lavender coloured curtains as if he knows that it'll be there. “Even the toilet.” Then he shifts his gaze to Miyadate’s face and has to tilt his head up a little. “Thank you.”

“What for?” Miyadate finds himself saying. But he thinks he knows the answer.

“For loving me,” Watanabe says earnestly, the gleam replaced by adoration and respect as he blinks at Miyadate.

Not wanting to prolong the conversation least Miyadate does something inappropriate like kiss the underage boy (though Watanabe has probably already lost his first kiss to a younger Miyadate who doesn’t exist in this time space), Miyadate turns towards the sink and starts his daily routine.

Behind him, Watanabe shuffles a bit before going over to stand next to him and casually grabs a cup with a toothbrush before squeezing a generous amount of toothpaste onto it. “The sink is big enough for two~” Watanabe sing-songs.

Besides the fact that Watanabe’s right, Miyadate also doesn’t have the energy to deal with the other so he opts not to say anything least it turns into another bickering session. Also, he would never win against Watanabe in a verbal spar so why bother?

In the mirror, Miyadate glares at the intruder who looks utterly satisfied with himself. It’s going to be a long day.

 

Or not. High school Watanabe is quite easy to please, Miyadate realises, after bringing him to a mall to buy some clothes then eating at a nice cafe before going to the grocery shop to buy some coke and gummies. He’s just like…

Miyadate stops thinking and looks at the younger boy in front of him who is looking at several skin products.

He’s just like, “Shota,” Miyadate whispers. Watanabe gives Miyadate an inquiring look, going back to his quest for a suitable mask for his skin type when Miyadate shakes his head.

This is all so real - the construction. The more Miyadate dreams, the more he feels that he’s good enough to work with Watanabe in the real world. His skills aren't shabby or rusty at all. More than that, he misses Watanabe, the real Watanabe, _his_ Watanabe. He misses seeing the other's eyes crinkle whenever he laughs. He misses the other's sleepy voice when he wakes up. He misses the appealing gap of the other’s confidence around a group of people but the shyness he has around Miyadate when they’re alone.

He misses his Watanabe.

 _‘But maybe,’_ he thinks as he regards high school Watanabe. The younger boy is listening intently to a sales assistant while clutching onto a basket full of various face creams and face masks, his other hand occupied by a derma roller. How he can ever buy more things, Miyadate has no idea. But he smiles fondly when Watanabe beckons him over for advice; a futile move on the younger boy's part because Miyadate knows nothing about skin care.

Maybe he can stay here a little longer.

 

It’s the last day of school before the start of summer holidays and Miyadate is outside the high school in his car, waiting for Watanabe to come swaggering out through the gates. They haven't met at all since the day Watanabe turned up at his doorstep unannounced. But he got a call from Watanabe at around 1am last night (and he silently cursed the younger boy for not sleeping earlier).

At the age of thirty-four, he’s prone to think that he’s long past the age to feel his heartbeat speeding up and thumping rapidly when he talks to the person he likes. He’s proven terribly wrong when he hears Watanabe calling his name in a soft voice through the phone.

People feel that way when they’re talking to people they like. Period. Age doesn’t matter.

“Yeah?” Miyadate asks back in an equally soft voice, trying to match the mood Watanabe has set for them.

“Can you pick me up from school tomorrow?” Watanabe sounds sleepy, his breathing slow and heavy like he has been sleeping before calling.

“Sure. What time?”

“Afternoon…” Watanabe yawns over the line and Miyadate smiles.

He doesn’t need Watanabe to tell him the exact time. He doesn’t even have to ask what time. It was his high school too after all.

So Miyadate is sitting in his car, the radio at a very soft volume, the sound further minimised by the air con on full blast. The summer heat is making Miyadate’s skin prickle; he doesn’t have a choice.

The school bell rings and Miyadate can imagine how noisy it is in the classrooms. A part of him wishes he’s there too - throwing useless papers in the air and slinging his arm over Watanabe’s shoulder as they happily leave school, all ready to spend their summer together, like they used to.

A few minutes later, students filing out are pointing at his car but he doesn’t care. Then he sees a familiar figure running over to the car and smiles.

Flinging the passenger door open, Watanabe throws his bag in first before jumping in and then rolling down the window to bid his friends goodbye. He doesn’t move after that and Miyadate has to close the window using the master control.

Miyadate turns to look at Watanabe expectantly, waiting for the younger boy to fasten his seat belt but Watanabe gives him back a blank look and he thinks ‘whatever’. He steps on the accelerator and drives out of the school compound quickly.

“People will gossip.”

“About me dating an old man?”

Not engaging with Watanabe is always the right thing to do, Miyadate tells himself and remains silent. A victorious grin appears the younger’s face.

“Where’re you taking me to?” Watanabe asks curiously as he stares out the windscreen at the open highway.

“Somewhere.”

“I loveeee surprises,” Watanabe drawls sarcastically and cushions his cheek against his palm. Miyadate just smiles.

“I’ll wake you up when we're reaching,” Miyadate offers suddenly and Watanabe splutters.

“What makes you think I’m going to fall asleep?”

Oh, Miyadate knows alright.

Just to prove Miyadate’s point wrong, Watanabe forces himself to stay awake, letting his head bump into the window to startle himself on purpose or actually making the effort to bang his head against the storage compartment before him. Miyadate worries about the sanity of this Watanabe.

“You’re damaging my car,” is all Miyadate says and that’s all it takes for Watanabe to let out a distressed noise. “Go to sleep. You don’t have to prove me wrong. I’m right on this one. If you don’t sleep now, you don’t get to sleep later. There’s a lot of walking to do. We’re reaching soon. And I won’t carry you,” Miyadate throws in the last line upon realising what a useful threat it might be.

It is indeed useful as Miyadate turns to see Watanabe lowering the passenger’s seat and making himself comfortable, grabbing his sweater from his school bag and covering himself before smiling up at Miyadate. “Focus on the road,” Watanabe says and Miyadate has to tear his gaze away lest he leans over to kiss the younger boy.

Being as considerate as always, Miyadate turns off the radio completely and he considers lowering the air conditioning’s fan speed as well but decides against it as he notices the sun hanging high and bright, scorching the surface of everything it shines on. Exaggeration, yes, but Miyadate’s never enjoyed the summer’s unbearable heat. Not much anyway.

A while later, he notes that Watanabe’s breathing has evened out, a tell-tale sign that Watanabe has fallen asleep. Finally. Subconsciously, he has been listening to the high school boy’s breathing patterns, patiently waiting for him to fall asleep so that he can finally relax.

Miyadate doesn’t know why but he feels nervous around the teen and finds himself jittery all over just knowing that the younger boy is next to him. When Watanabe’s asleep, it isn’t so bad, because he can pretend that he’s alone. Only then does he not have to look at the other’s face and be reminded why he’s here. Although there’s probably more to that than just feeling inadequate and hopeless.

He stops the car, hoping that Watanabe doesn’t realise and wake up. Thankfully, Watanabe remains asleep and Miyadate heaves out a sigh of relief. 

His car is parked in the middle of the road and he hopes it isn’t in the way of anything. Checking his surroundings, he doesn’t think it is. They’re in a rather deserted area where people seldom travel. But it’s also a very beautiful place that he wants to show Watanabe.

Giving himself a few minutes to calm his nerves and checking himself out in the rear view mirror, he feels much better after seeing that he’s wearing his favourite jacket – the one that accents his broad structure and makes him look good. And then he’s on the road again.

From his peripheral vision, he sees Watanabe stirring and blinking before completely shutting his eyes again and dozing off. It doesn’t seem as if Watanabe was awake during that short stop.

 

“We're here,” Miyadate announces after he parked his car, wanting to indulge the teen more by letting him sleep longer. Besides, he can’t bear to wake the sleeping boy up.

Watanabe mumbles something incoherent and opens his eyes with what seems like much effort and Miyadate can’t help but roll his eyes, knowing that Watanabe can’t see.

The sounds of a river flowing can be heard and that wakes Watanabe up immediately. “Where did you bring me? The mountains? Really?” He doesn’t sound amused and looks even more unimpressed as he takes in his surrounding.

Miyadate ignores him and gets out of the car, walking in a particular direction and Watanabe has no choice but to follow, not the wanting to be stranded alone. The younger boy contemplated staying in the car but Miyadate had turned off the engine before getting down and even locked the car once he was out, only to lock it again later after Watanabe scrambled out.

Bastard. Watanabe fixes a glare on Miyadate’s back as he treks carefully behind him.

The path is getting rockier and Watanabe’s becoming increasingly tired by the second. At that moment, a wonderful idea pops into his mind and he calls out to Miyadate to stop and stand still. “Hold your feet very firmly to the ground.”

Not knowing why, Miyadate does as he’s told, planting his feet onto the sturdy ground.

He hears the sound of leaves being crushed and when he finally realises what Watanabe’s up to, it’s way too late. He almost loses his footing as the younger boy pounces on his back but he manages to steady them both and hook his hands under the back of Watanabe’s thigh.

“I said I wouldn't carry you,” Miyadate groans but he starts walking anyway.

“Too bad,” Watanabe retorts, satisfied. “You can’t drop me now.”

“Technically, I can,” Miyadate reasons, causing Watanabe to fidget a little on his back, probably adjusting his position. Then he realises that one of Watanabe’s foot is dangling precariously close to his dear friend.

“You were saying?”

“You can sleep on my back.”

 

Watanabe doesn’t actually sleep throughout the journey, only taking a few short naps before they reach their destination.

There’s a semi-large bridge made out of stones further ahead. On one side is a baby waterfall, its water gushing down into a small stream where there are no fishes. There is an assortment of flowers decorating its bank. The other side of the bridge is a stark contrast, with no raging waters coming from anywhere and just a tranquil outlook with calm waters.

Without saying anything, Watanabe jumps off Miyadate’s back, causing them both to stagger a little. But the ground here is flatter than before, making it easier for them to catch their footing again. Still, Miyadate throws Watanabe a warning look. Very unsurprisingly, the younger boy doesn’t even bother to fake being sheepish.

They walk onto the bridge together, and follow the straight path ahead as a comfortable silence settles between them. That is until Watanabe breaks it. Of course he would be the first to break it.

“So we’ll get married right?” Watanabe asks uncertainly, walking beside Miyadate awkwardly, trying to control the urge to kick little rocks on the ground because that would make him look extremely childish.

“Yeah?” Miyadate sounds unsure, but that's because all he can think about is marrying Watanabe who is currently a high schooler and he is thirty-four. No. Just no. “When you grow up of course.”

That makes Watanabe squint his eyes at him. “When I grow up? Wouldn't you have grown old by then? I’m supposed to marry an old man?” He frowns, disconcerted by the idea.

Unable to stop himself, Miyadate lets out a distressed groan, only to make Watanabe burst out into laughter. Eighteen year old Watanabe Shota is insufferable. Miyadate wonders why he never saw that years ago. Though he was just probably too in love to bother.

“I’m actually younger than you.”

“No you’re not,” Watanabe points out in a matter of fact tone, eliciting another groan of distress from Miyadate.

It ends there because Miyadate’s too old to deal with high school Watanabe’s quirks. They’re at the halfway mark of the bridge when Watanabe catches him by surprise.

“That means I can do this right?” Watanabe asks and then stops Miyadate from walking by standing in front of him.

Before Miyadate can even say ‘what’, Watanabe’s stepping on his shoes, and placing his hands on Miyadate’s broad shoulders for balance. Then he tilts his face up because they’re still not quite the same height yet, and leans in close to press his lips against Miyadate’s.

Instinctively, Miyadate’s hands come up to wrap around Watanabe’s waist, afraid that he might lose his footing on Miyadate’s shoes. Miyadate’s very expensive pair of black polished Armani shoes. But more importantly, he’s trying not to concentrate on the pair of soft lips against his own. Though admittedly, it is getting more and more distracting by the second. Miyadate finally gives in, letting go of his inhibitions and kissing back, tightening his hold around the other’s waist and trying to not think about his now dirtied shoes.

There’s a bit of teeth clashing and mouths missing when Watanabe steps further up and winds his arms around Miyadate’s neck, catching the older man by surprise as he grips Watanabe’s waist even tighter, genuinely concerned the other might fall. Soon enough, they settle back into a comfortable kissing pace and Watanabe bounces on his heels slightly. And Miyadate has to focus on the kiss in case he throws Watanabe off the bridge for stepping on his shoes for so long.

Watanabe’s the first to break the kiss, as he was in initiating it and every other thing. He stares at Miyadate blissfully and breaks into a full grin when he becomes aware of Miyadate’s dirtied pair of branded shoes.

“Still not getting off?” Miyadate asks with a quirk of his brow. Miyadate can see Watanabe contemplating something, weighing some options. But he doesn’t need Watanabe to say anything for him to know what the younger boy is thinking about. “Don't you think it’s a little too public here to jump on me?”

As soon as Watanabe’s mind processes those words, he blushes furiously and takes a step back, whacking Miyadate in the chest for good measures. Then he walks ahead on his own, ignoring Miyadate talking loudly behind him.

“I would carry you at home.” Miyadate’s voice is near. “I would kiss you even.”

The distance that separates them is easily covered by Miyadate with his long legs and he grabs Watanabe’s arm, twisting it slightly to force him to turn a little. He can see that Watanabe’s about to scold him or whine but then the words dry out in his throat when Miyadate leans in, their faces mere inches apart.

One hand rests steadily on Watanabe’s waist and the other comes up to lift his chin. He’s standing behind Watanabe and the angle is a little awkward, so he steps closer, wrapping that one arm tightly around Watanabe, hugging him. Then Miyadate goes closer and kisses Watanabe slowly.

“Why did you come here?” Watanabe mouths against Miyadate’s lips before pulling away, wanting an answer before continuing the kiss.

Miyadate’s eyes soften as he caresses Watanabe’s cheek. “To see you.”

 

The remainder of their walk in the Enchanted Forest, or so Watanabe calls it because he can’t be bothered with its real name, is filled with shoulders bumping, short catching up sessions and laughter. It’s filled with quiet whispers, leaning against trees and kisses.

Even though Miyadate was initially against kissing. His inhibitions fade away the more Watanabe asks questions like ‘Do we kiss a lot?’, ‘Do we hug a lot?’, ‘Do we go out a lot?’ and ‘Do we make out a lot?’ among others. Miyadate figures it’s easier to shut him up by kissing him. But then again, it isn’t like Miyadate doesn’t enjoy kissing Watanabe.

 

Hours past and the sun is setting, so Miyadate urges Watanabe to go back to the car lest they get stuck here in the dark. Watanabe looks reluctant at first, until Miyadate offers to piggyback him all the way back. Happily, Watanabe agrees and jumps onto Miyadate’s back.

It is only halfway through the walk back when Watanabe tells Miyadate to hurry up does the latter then realises what Watanabe’s main aim is all along. That sly brat.

As soon as Miyadate’s car is in sight, Watanabe jumps off Miyadate’s back, runs over to the vehicle, and pouts Miyadate into opening the door quickly. Miyadate thinks that he should re-evaluate his priorities as he watches Watanabe climb into the passenger’s seat. He cannot give in all the time.

“Ryota~” Watanabe calls from the passenger seat where the door hangs open. “Start the engine; I need the air con.”

Miyadate listens.

Without a direction in mind, Miyadate starts the car and drives away from the place. He turns on the radio and a song Watanabe likes is playing. Naturally, the younger boy sings along and jams to it. Miyadate finds himself nodding along to the music and Watanabe’s loud voice, all the while a smile is on his face.

The atmosphere feels nice; Miyadate feels warm inside and all over and Watanabe just has to ruin the mood.

“So we have sex and stuff?”

If a strong reaction is what Watanabe wanted from Miyadate, he got it. He watches, thoroughly amused at the way Miyadate’s face turns considerably red and he grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. His breathing remains the same however and Watanabe guesses that Miyadate is probably more stressed and frustrated than turned on. Oh well.

“Can you stop saying stuff like that?” Miyadate bites out, trying to suppress his agitation and failing miserably, only succeeding in entertaining Watanabe further.

“I’m only asking?” Watanabe raises his pitch at the end, making the statement sound more like a question instead.

“No,” Miyadate grinds out, fixing his mouth into a thin line as he concentrates on the road and relaxes his hold on the wheel.

“What?” Watanabe sounds confused as he continues arranging his hair from looking at the small vanity mirror. “No what?”

“No, we don’t have sex,” Miyadate says flatly and Watanabe splutters.

“But we got married!” Watanabe shouts, feeling indignant.

“Marriage isn’t about sex!” This isn’t a conversation he ever wants to have with eighteen-year-old Watanabe Shota.

“Then what is it about?” But eighteen-year-old Watanabe is as persistent as an old lady fighting for the last piece of bread at the bakery. Miyadate has an answer to this, and is about to say it when Watanabe starts talking again, saying something that makes his blood run cold. “Don't tell me love. Because if it it’s love, you wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be here.”

The car screeches to a stop after Miyadate steps on the brakes abruptly. He doesn’t realise that his breathing has sped up until now. Clutching the wheel, he tries to steady his breathing.

“Ryota?” Worry laces Watanabe’s voice and Miyadate feels his heart swelling because he can’t remember the last time Watanabe has spoken so softly to him. Adult Watanabe is better at hiding his feelings. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean - mean to…”

From the side of Miyadate’s eye, he sees Watanabe’s hand coming forward but it doesn’t reach him and he thinks that the younger boy must probably be scared.

After a while longer, Miyadate finally calms down and releases his grip on the steering wheel, letting his hands fall to his lap. “Just don’t…” he leans back and closes his eye. “Just don’t doubt my love for you. Don't doubt how much I love you. I’m here because – we got married because we loved, we love each other. That's all you need to know.”

Taking in a deep breath, Miyadate turns to look at Watanabe, who is staring back with wide eyes while nodding slowly. Once Miyadate’s has gotten the reassurance he needs, he turns back to the front. He doesn’t expect Watanabe’s next move.

Watanabe unbuckles his seatbelt and leans over the console, pressing a soft kiss to Miyadate’s left cheek, his lips lingering for a bit before he pulls away. Now it’s Miyadate’s turn to stare at the other in shock.

“So we do things like that too…” Watanabe looks so young and uncertain. “Right?” He lowers his voice into a whisper and bites his lower lip, avoiding Miyadate’s gaze.

Small things like that are what make Miyadate remember why he fell in love with Watanabe. His eyes soften as he reaches out a hand to ruffle Watanabe’s dark brown hair because he’s the older one now and can hence do it. “Yeah.”

 

“Can we try dreaming together?”

Miyadate stops reading an article on his laptop and stares at Watanabe. “Where did you get that idea from?”

Miyadate doesn’t mean to sound harsh and Watanabe’s face visibly falls. “Oh. I thought...we still do...you know...dream together.”

Something sparks in Miyadate’s mind but he can’t remember what it is. He tries chasing that elusive memory but it stays out of reach. It’s easier to ask Watanabe. “I don’t understand.”

This captures Watanabe’s full attention. “You’re really not going to tell me what happened and why you’re here, are you?” Watanabe asks, evading the previous topic for now. “What happened to you, Ryota?” He continues as he inches closer to Miyadate and sits on his lap sideways. “What did I do to you when I grew up?” He lifts his hand to gently touch Miyadate’s face. Up close, he can see Miyadate’s heavy eye bags and the beginnings of wrinkles forming.

“Shota, it’s not your fault,” Miyadate assures the younger boy hurriedly and catches his hand, stopping it from tracing his face, not wanting to feel the scorch left behind by those hands and the unease that build ups in his chest.

Watanabe is looking at Miyadate with sad eyes that the latter can’t comprehend. Pulling his hand out of Miyadate’s grasp, Watanabe hooks both his arms around Miyadate’s neck and leans in, hugging the other close.

“We used to always dream together,” Watanabe starts and Miyadate’s confused for a moment before he realises that Watanabe’s continuing their previous conversation. “At your place. At my place. Sometimes even in abandon buildings or cheap hotel rooms. And sometimes in school... on the rooftop... with others as well…” his voice trails off towards the end and Miyadate notices that Watanabe has gone still in his arms.

“Why did we dream so much?” Miyadate doesn’t understand. “Weren't we happy? Why did we have to escape to dreams?”

Whatever Miyadate just said has upset Watanabe, judging from the way the younger boy pulls away and smiles at him bitterly. “Do you only dream when you’re upset, Ryota?”

It’s a dangerous question so Miyadate doesn’t say anything and instead tugs Watanabe back to his side. The younger boy complies and leans contentedly against Miyadate’s shoulders as if the other were a comfortable sofa tailor-made for him.

“Okay. Okay. Let's dream.”

Gleefully, Watanabe slides off Miyadate’s lap and skips over to the PASIV machine and takes a box lying beside it. Carefully opening the case, he takes out a syringe and pumps a liquid substance into it. Once he’s done, he approaches Miyadate with the syringe in his hand.

Warily, Miyadate watches Watanabe advance closer and he isn’t sure if he wants to run or stretch his arm out. He does the latter when Watanabe nudges his chest with the other side of the syringe.

Without saying anything, Watanabe injects the serum into Miyadate’s bloodstream upon finding the vein. 

“Ow,” Miyadate whines as he clutches his arm. “What’s that?”

“Somnacin,” Watanabe says as if it’s obvious. It is obvious; Miyadate should know.

“And you don’t need any?” Miyadate questions as he watches Watanabe desensitise the needle with deft fingers.

“I can dream naturally.”

The conversation ends there because Miyadate doesn’t want to ask why Watanabe knows that he cannot dream naturally anymore. He knows the answer anyway.

“Come on,” Watanabe says as he starts pulling Miyadate over to the bed.

“Where are we going?” Miyadate asks when the PASIV machine is ready and they’re both comfortably lying side by side, their hands entwined.

“I want to see you when I grow up.”

Watanabe has turned to face him; Miyadate can tell from the volume of his voice. So Miyadate turns to look at Watanabe as well and smiles when he sees the younger boy staring at him with hopeful eyes. Miyadate nods.

They close their eyes and Miyadate dreams.

 

 

It’s a bit creepy when Miyadate wakes up and looks to his side to find Watanabe all grown up. He knows that he’s in a deeper dream layer now though and that isn’t the same Watanabe from the previous dream.

For a few minutes, Miyadate does nothing but lie on his side and watch Watanabe sleep. His husband doesn’t look like he’s sleeping well. With a scrunched up face, Watanabe’s brows knit together, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

“What are you dreaming about?” Miyadate whispers with a frown as he touches Watanabe’s face, then between his eyes in an attempt to smooth out his frown. It doesn’t work and Watanabe twists to his other side, scrunching up his face more.

Nightmare.

“Shota, wake up,” Miyadate calls out gently as he pulls at the sleeping man’s shoulder. “Stop dreaming.” 

How ironic.

Watanabe relaxes and he unclenches his hands – Miyadate hasn't even noticed till right now – before slowly opening his eyes.

“I’m here,” Miyadate says in a soft voice and strokes Watanabe’s cheek, smiling endearingly when Watanabe stretches with his eyes closed and a small noise slips from the back of his throat.

“What time is it?” Watanabe asks sleepily as he tries to stifle a yawn but not quite managing it, cuddling closer to Miyadate and letting out a breath loudly.

“Early.” Always the more considerate of the two, Miyadate makes sure to keep his voice soft and allows the other to snuggle more.

Slowly, Watanabe blinks his eyes open. “Breakfast?” Watanabe asks with a lazy smile and Miyadate thinks he could get used to this life.

 

Most of the time, Watanabe stays at home, cleans the house, does the laundry and cook. He isn’t working in the dream industry anymore. It’s far from the real Watanabe and Miyadate has to constantly remind himself this is just a dream, his own perverse fantasy. But it doesn’t stop him from hating himself and feeling like crap. Not when Watanabe greets him all smiley at the front door, welcoming him home with a kiss to the corner of his mouth after a long and tiring day at work.

Sometimes, Watanabe goes clubbing and comes home smelling like another man’s cologne or alcoholic drinks he probably didn't even touch since he isn’t that great a drinker. Miyadate doesn’t blame him. People rub and push against each other on the dance floor after all.

Still, Miyadate minds. A lot. Watanabe’s married – he ought to know better. They aren't in high school or university anymore. And Watanabe needs to learn how to control his playful nature.

One day, Watanabe comes home dead drunk at 3 am, giggling in the hallway and slamming into furniture and walls alike. That’s when Miyadate finally decides to deal with the problem. He goes out to the living room to find Watanabe leaning against a stranger trying to get his hands under his shirt.

Miyadate sees red and he lands a punch to the stranger’s face before manhandling him roughly and throwing him out of the house. He doesn’t stop there because the stranger is dead drunk and Miyadate doesn’t want him waking up at his doorstep whenever he decided to return to the living world. So he drags the stranger by the collar to the lift and even calls the asshole a cab, dumping him in, telling the driver to go anywhere and the rest isn’t his problem.

Before entering the house, Miyadate takes in a few deep breaths, hand hovering over the door handle as he tries to calm himself down, not wanting to lash out at his husband. It isn’t entirely Watanabe’s fault. It probably wasn't Watanabe’s fault at all. 

Miyadate’s been unbelievably busy with work – working overtime almost every day and even working on weekends. He hardly has time for his husband anymore. Meanwhile, Watanabe has quit his job as a dream sharer and stays at home all day doing nothing but menial house chores (or things Miyadate doesn’t know about and hasn't had the time to find out).

When he finally enters the house, darkness swarms his vision and he has to blink a few times to get used to it. In the corridor, he finds Watanabe squatting against the wall, head buried on his knees with his hands wrapped around his legs, cocooning himself.

Sighing, he paces over with heavy footsteps and hulls Watanabe up. The first thing he sees is Watanabe’s tear-stricken face and he panics, a lump settling in his throat.

“What’s wrong?” Miyadate asks, tone filled with concern, and Watanabe mutters something unintelligible before slumping against Miyadate.

Not expecting Watanabe’s full body weight to collapse on him so suddenly, Miyadate stumbles a little trying to hold himself and Watanabe’s dead weight up. It isn’t very difficult considering how light Watanabe is. As he bends down a little to hook one hand behind Watanabe’s knees and the other behind his back, Miyadate tries to decipher what he thinks he has heard.

It strangely sounds a lot like ‘I love you’.

Deciding not to dwell on it any further, Miyadate tries turning his doorknob without dropping Watanabe. The door opens easily when Miyadate accidentally gives it a light push. He must have forgotten to close the door just now.

At the entrance to the toilet, Miyadate stops, pondering if he should at least help Watanabe shower. He even considers rummaging through the wardrobe for a fresh set of clothes for Watanabe to change into. Or more like, for him to help Watanabe change into.

Knowing Watanabe, he’d throw a fit in the morning when he wakes up to find himself in his clubbing clothes, reeking nonetheless.

But honestly, Miyadate is too tired to be bothered about how angry the shorter male would be when he wakes up. Besides, this is his dream; he could bend things to his will. All he needs to do is picture Watanabe being calm and composed – like how he usually is in this dream layer. That would do; Miyadate’s convinced.

A flicker of doubt flashes across his mind as he helps Watanabe into bed. Looking at the brown haired man’s flushed sleeping face, Miyadate wonders if this is really what he wants and he feels a little faint from the guilt building steadily in his chest.

In the morning when Miyadate wakes up, he realises that Watanabe is already awake, sitting upright. “Morning.”

At the sound of Miyadate’s voice, Watanabe turns, an unreadable expression on his face. One of his hands is gripping his leather jacket tightly.

“Sorry, I was too tired last night to help you bathe,” Miyadate apologises from where he’s lying down without really meaning it. “Or change.”

“You know I don’t like - ”

“Then don’t go clubbing,” Miyadate spits out, voice harsh but Watanabe doesn’t even flinch. Instead he stares back with cold eyes like the real Watanabe would do. Under that intense gaze, Miyadate feels helpless and frozen to the spot. But that lasts only for a second because this is his dream; he’s the one in control. “It’s as simple as that.”

“I don’t - ”

“Besides,” Miyadate cuts the older man off again and this time, Watanabe lets out an audible groan, shoulders slumping. “I already said I was sorry, didn’t I?”

There’s a slight change in Watanabe’s expression and Miyadate expects the other to scold him but he shakes his head instead. “It’s okay.”

Without saying anything more, Watanabe gets off the bed and plods to the bathroom, leaving Miyadate alone with his thoughts. He wants to assert his dominance over Watanabe but how?

Be nice about it? Do it the hard way? Take a gentler approach? Miyadate doesn’t know.

Too caught up in his own thoughts, he doesn’t realise that Watanabe has stepped out of the toilet, a fluffy pastel blue towel around his neck as water droplets drip from the ends of his hair. Only when Watanabe tells him “you can go now” does he snap out of his thoughts.

“Okay,” Miyadate says simply and sits up. One look at Watanabe has him frowning though. “Shota, come here.” He beckons Watanabe over and there’s hesitance in the latter’s footsteps as he pads over.

Without any warning, Miyadate grabs Watanabe’s arm as soon as he’s within reach and pulls him roughly onto the bed, sending Watanabe’s bathrobe into disarray. Watanabe shoots him a glare and arranges the bathrobe back into place. Miyadate doesn’t notice any of that, his attention monopolised by the dark spot on Watanabe’s neck.

“What was that for?” Watanabe barks, unfriendly and frustrated. “Ryo - ” he freezes mid sentence when he feels the cool press of Miyadate’s fingers against his neck. “Ryota?”

The air suddenly feels heavier and the atmosphere feels tense.

“Who did this to you?” Miyadate’s icy tone sliced through the air, sending shivers down Watanabe’s spine. “Was it that guy last night?”

“What – ”

“The one who had his hands all over you?” Miyadate cuts Watanabe off smoothly, not giving him a chance to speak. “Or was it someone else at the club? Come to think of it, you've never told me who your clubbing partners are.”

“My old team,” Watanabe admits truthfully. There isn’t a point in lying it isn’t as if he has anything to hide. “I didn't cheat.”

Miyadate touches Watanabe’s neck and the older man winces when he feels a pinch. Chancing a glance at the full-length mirror, Watanabe catches sight of a bruise darkening under Miyadate’s finger and mentally berates himself for not being more conscious of his surroundings the previous night and also for not noticing the mark in the bathroom. At least he could have covered it up then. 

“Shota,” Miyadate calls out, his tone even colder than before and Watanabe flinched, turning his head to face Miyadate. His husband looks angry but outsiders would only see a calm demeanour. Watanabe knows better and he is scared. “Don't go clubbing anymore. Promise me.”

Biting his bottom lip, Watanabe refuses to meet Miyadate’s eyes but he nods eventually and a satisfied smile graces Miyadate’s features. Miyadate has never felt so good about the power and authority he exerts over his husband until that moment.

Slowly, but surely, he comes to accept that he enjoys having this control.

But when Watanabe doesn’t dare to look at him, like now, his eyes downcast as he chews his lower lip uncertainly, Miyadate falters.

 

“Ryota, can we go somewhere soon? Take a short trip? Somewhere near? South Korea?”

All Watanabe gets in response is a soft ‘hmm’ that he isn’t even sure if he’s just imagining. Miyadate looks busy, fingers flying over the keyboard as he types away, completely absorbed in his own world which only consists of his laptop and himself.

A quick glance to the clock tells Watanabe that it’s almost dinnertime. “I’ll be in the kitchen then,” Watanabe announces, excusing himself from the study, leaving Miyadate alone to finish his work.

Not long after, Miyadate presses the ‘enter’ key a little too hard and slams his laptop shut. Stretching his legs out, he groans as he feels the strain in his neck and back. Moving his head from side to side, he manages to work out a few kinks but he still feels sore all over.

Blearily, he realises Watanabe missing from the room and tries to recall when the other left but his mind goes blank. He stretches his arms up over his head and slouches against his rolling chair before pushing himself up and going towards the door.

Just as he touches the doorknob, someone shrieks and Miyadate hurriedly opens the door and dashes to the kitchen. He tries to stop himself from thinking about how he knew the sound came from the kitchen and not anywhere else.

There’s a long gash on Watanabe’s right leg, starting from the bottom of his knee all the way till the area just a bit above his ankle. Beside him, on the floor, there’s a kitchen knife, its blade dyed in Watanabe’s blood. Whimpering, Watanabe holds onto the counter and leans against it, bending his leg at a certain angle in hopes it'll alleviate the pain. It isn’t really helping.

Miyadate quickly pulls one of the kitchen chairs over to where Watanabe’s standing and helps him sit down. “Don't move, okay? I’ll go get the antiseptic and stuff.”

It doesn’t take long for Miyadate to come back. Watanabe sighs gratefully as he watches Miyadate put the first aid kit on the floor and he kneels beside it in front of Watanabe.

At the first touch of the antiseptic-filled cotton dabbing his skin, Watanabe flinches and Miyadate’s hand rests on his thigh to keep him still. “It'll hurt more if you keep moving,” Miyadate warns and Watanabe tries his best to stay still but fails miserably, jerking out of Miyadate’s hold at every chance he gets. He starts crying softly when Miyadate starts to apply the cream, sniffing at every interval and making pitiful noises.

“Shota, stay still,” Miyadate scolds, tone final as he exerts more pressure on Watanabe’s thigh in an attempt to stop him from fidgeting so much. “I can’t put the cream on properly. And stop whining so much,” he adds in as an afterthought.

Watanabe goes completely still and Miyadate has an easier job of nursing his husband’s wound. When Watanabe winces slightly, Miyadate’s head shoots up and sees the discomfort on the other’s face. Lower lip clenched between teeth and hands gripping the side of the chair tightly, it’s as obvious as daylight that Watanabe is in pain but chooses to not to move and remain silent because those were Miyadate’s instructions. 

This isn’t the relationship he wants, Miyadate thinks, frozen in the spot as he looks guiltily at Watanabe. “Does it hurt?” He asks softly and all Watanabe does is nod as he releases his lower lip and presses his lips together into a thin line.

Sighing, Miyadate quickly cleans the wound and places a bandage over it before closing the first aid kit and standing up. He bends down and presses a kiss to Watanabe’s forehead, ignoring the way his husband’s eyes shut tightly upon seeing him nearing.

“You don’t have to be scared of me, okay?” Miyadate whispers and rests his hands on Watanabe’s shoulders.

Watanabe nods, looking unsure and Miyadate kisses him on the forehead once more. Somewhere in the back of Miyadate’s mind, he secretly likes the control.

 

“Ryota?”

“Shh,” Miyadate says gently, flipping through pieces of paper, not even regarding Watanabe for a second. “I’m busy, Shota. I don’t have time for you. My promotion banks on this.”

“But Ryota – ”

“Find something else to do okay?” This time, Miyadate stops his work and looks at Watanabe. “You can change my coffee for me. Or prepare dinner for me. For us,” he corrects quickly at the last second and glances at Watanabe. 

There’s a flicker of emotion in Watanabe’s eye but it dissipates quickly and Miyadate doesn’t want to concentrate on that so he goes back to his work. But Watanabe remains unmoving at the doorway, sending jittery feels to Miyadate’s stomach and toes. Miyadate’s about to say something to send him away again when Watanabe closes the door.

For a few minutes, Miyadate stares at the closed door, straining his ears to catch the sound of Watanabe’s foot padding across their linoleum floor but he fails to hear anything. Half of him wonders if Watanabe is still standing outside with his ear pressed against the door trying to listen out for any sound of activity in the room, as if waiting to catch Miyadate red-handed in some love affair. The other half of Miyadate tells himself to stop staring and do his work, then go out for the dinner that would be prepared by then. He supposes he could trust the latter. Trust Watanabe. There’s no reason for him to distrust his husband anyway.

An uneasy feeling develops in Miyadate in that moment. 

Dinner is silent and it makes Miyadate miss Watanabe’s chatter, the sparkle dancing in his eyes and the casual leg bumping under the table. He stares longingly at Watanabe, hoping his husband would do something - complain that he’s too full, suggest pizza delivery or whine that he wants gummy bears. None of that happens and Watanabe simply sends him a questioning gaze when he catches Miyadate staring.

Solemnly, Miyadate shakes his head and he starts asking himself what is it that he really wants.

 

Watanabe’s running a fever so Miyadate’s home early for once to take care of his husband.

There’s a stack of travel brochures lying on the living room's glass table and Miyadate frowns at first before his expression softens into an understanding one. This must be how Watanabe spends his time at home.

On the pieces of papers, Miyadate can see markings in red and blue - extra information Watanabe has probably researched on - and his chest tightens. Some of them are dog-eared and Miyadate feels guilty upon seeing that most of them are trips to South Korea.

Shaking his head, he decides to look through them later; checking on Watanabe is priority.

After carelessly dumping his briefcase on the sofa, he quickly makes his way over to their room before stopping in front of it. He turns doorknob as slowly as possible, entering the room noiselessly before shutting it behind him just as silently. 

Watanabe is sleeping soundly, wrapped up in their comforter, a pillow fort built around him. Miyadate smiles at that as he imagines Watanabe trudging around in search of extra pillows. Then he frowns, thinking he should have been the one doing that while Watanabe slept.

He pads over to the bed softly and finds Watanabe sleeping on his side, a towel lying next to him. It probably fell from his forehead. Miyadate picks the towel up and notices that it’s still a bit damp, meaning Watanabe went to sleep not long ago. Placing a kiss on Watanabe’s cheek, Miyadate grabs the towel and leaves the room quietly.

In the kitchen, he fills a small basin with water and dumps a few ice cubes in before throwing in a towel. On the way back to the room, he makes a detour to the living room to pick the brochures off the glass table.

Back inside the room, he sets the basin on the nightstand and sets the stack of brochures on the empty side of the bed. He picks the towel up from the basin and twists it, ensuring that it’s completely dry and folding it before putting it on Watanabe’s burning forehead, making sure it doesn’t slide off.

Once he’s certain that the towel is staying in place, he climbs onto the bed with as little movement as possible. Thankfully, Watanabe doesn’t move an inch. He lets out a breath that he’s been holding and picks up the brochure at the top of the stack.

While browsing through the brochures, he suddenly remembers Watanabe asking him if they can have a getaway some time. He didn’t respond at all back then despite having heard what Watanabe said, having been too absorbed in his own work.

Slight movement from the covers catches Miyadate’s attention. “Shota?” He calls softly.

Watanabe hums in response and slowly flicker his eyes open.

“You feeling better?” Miyadate asks gently, leaning over to Watanabe’s side and pushing his fringe out of his eyes.

Watanabe smiles, nodding at Miyadate’s question.

“I really can’t take time off work,” he says as he starts combing Watanabe’s hair and the smile on Watanabe’s face falls but he otherwise remains silent. “But we can still go to other places.”

“How?” Watanabe finally talks.

“We can dream.”

Upon hearing Miyadate’s suggestion, Watanabe’s face lights up and he nods eagerly. He tries sitting up but Miyadate quickly places his hand on Watanabe’s shoulder and shakes his head. “Rest,” is all Miyadate says and Watanabe stays lying down, obedient as always.

“Thank you.” The smile on Watanabe’s face is bright and blinding, making Miyadate’s heart ache tremendously.

 

They visit places they've never been to but have always wanted to before. They visit places forged in Miyadate’s mind - unreal places that Watanabe learns to love.

This Watanabe is quieter, more calm and compliant. It’s something Miyadate notices after spending a few weeks with him. Though technically, it isn’t something he has to notice since this Watanabe is his projection. Still, he can’t come to terms with the fact that he is consciously twisting Watanabe’s personality and shaping his character into something he wants. 

Watanabe’s always been the more domineering one in their relationship; things always have to go his way and while Miyadate is willing to comply more often than not, there are times he wants a say too. But Watanabe never leaves any room for discussion and that is grating for someone as prideful as Miyadate. On top of that, Watanabe’s stubborn and unreasonable – something Miyadate could deal with on most days but sometimes, just sometimes, Miyadate wants Watanabe to stop talking so much and listen. It seems like too much to wish for and seems unreal like a dream.

At least, that’s the Watanabe he remembers. It’s the Watanabe he remembers.

So here he is, in a dream, twisting his husband’s personality to suit himself. He may feel disgusted with himself now but he finds himself minding it less with each day.

Though all they've been doing lately is visit imaginary places constructed by Miyadate’s mind, they’re enjoying themselves. And Miyadate quite likes the way Watanabe openly reciprocates to his every word and move.

Deep down, there’s a nagging feeling telling him that this isn’t right. That this isn’t his husband. That this isn’t the Watanabe he wants.

But when Watanabe is smiling up at him and telling him, “whatever you say”, Miyadate finds it hard to turn away and agree with his heart. 

Miyadate is the one in control here. Being quite an egotistical man, he enjoys having authority, something the real Watanabe doesn’t let him bask in. Here though, he’s the one in charge. He gets the final say and Watanabe’s anything but unruly under his strict dogmatic rule.

So he wants to stay in control. 

He needs to be in control.

 

Their next destination is Taiwan. Miyadate’s been here before for work, but only once so he doesn’t remember much but he did some research last night, wanting to impress Watanabe. It’s one of the few places he’s been to for work but has never told Watanabe before because he wants to bring him here some day, in dreams or reality, and wants to surprise his husband with his knowledge. It hasn't happened yet, but it can happen now.

The night market Miyadate brings them to is quiet and rather deserted and it shouldn't be that way. Turning to his right, he can see Watanabe’s disappointment as well and he guesses that the other might have seen how Taiwan is really like on news programmes before.

Concentrating, Miyadate starts to populate the place and make up more details, bringing the place to live and Watanabe brightens up at the sound of chatter and the smell of food.

“Come on,” Miyadate urges, taking hold of Watanabe’s hand and bringing them onto the crowded street.

While this Watanabe is quieter in general, he’s chattier now. Maybe because Miyadate misses having Watanabe that way - noisy, funny and rebellious. He’s telling Miyadate things to add in the dream – small details to make the whole thing more realistic. He describes the faces of random passers-by, putting features to their once blurry face. It’s the architect in Watanabe talking and Miyadate can’t help but smile.

 _‘It’s the architect Miyadate can’t get rid of.’_ A voice in his head reminds him. Sighing to himself, Miyadate thinks, no, it’s the architect he doesn’t want to get rid of.

“Ryota, are you listening?” Watanabe whines and tugs at the younger man’s sleeve. Miyadate gives him a small smile and nods. To prove his point, a few strangers now have distinct faces and Watanabe chuckles at one of the projections for having a large nose.

Watching Watanabe like this, Miyadate can’t help but smile fondly. He looks around to see what he’s constructed and surprises himself at the lack of familiarity. This isn’t the Taiwan he remembers, he thinks, as he looks at the crowded street and exotic food he has never seen before. Or has he?

Voices in his head tell him he has but he cannot recall a single thing. Though the voices must be right; how else does everything feel so real?

Over thinking is going to cause him a major headache so he tries to mute the voices in his head for now. They'll come back later whether he likes it or not.

Because deep down, he really wants to hear the voices. In this dream layer, the voices in his head act as the anti-thesis of his very self and contradicts him on purpose to remind him that this is a dream. That he needs to wake up some day. That this isn’t real. That this isn’t the real Watanabe. That this isn’t the man he loves.

“Bring me here one day?” Watanabe suddenly asks, his lips curved upwards. “Okay?” He turns to Miyadate, the smile never leaving his face and all Miyadate can do is nod. He wants to hear the real Watanabe saying this.

Sometimes, he wavers and finds it easy to let go of control in the dream, let Watanabe have a say and just live like it’s reality. He doesn’t impose on Watanabe’s wishes, lets this projection talk freely and doesn’t command him subconsciously.

At times like this, he realises that he really doesn’t want any of this control.

 

At other times, he loses control completely and Watanabe acts like a wild animal.

“Shota, stop,” Miyadate hisses and Watanabe goes silent but the older man continues to look at Miyadate like he’s some kind of vermin.

Clicking the ballpoint in his hand a few times, Watanabe smiles when Miyadate sends a glare his way. The glare only spurs Watanabe to press the ballpoint quicker and more frequently, finding delight in Miyadate’s annoyance at the sound.

Miyadate closes his eyes in frustration and rubs at his temples as he readies himself for the quarrel that Watanabe is sure to incite but surprisingly, it doesn’t comes. When he opens his eyes, he finds Watanabe staring at him with a different expression, a look he can’t place a name on.

“So this is how you like me,” Watanabe says slowly, carefully, like he’s measuring his words on purpose. “Obedient. Submissive.” He clicks his ballpoint a few more times and Miyadate ‘tsks’ at the sound.

“What are you talking about?” Miyadate asks through gritted teeth because he knows exactly what Watanabe is referring to.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re quite masochistic, aren't you?” Watanabe asks, amused, and Miyadate feels the control slipping out of his hand. “You want me to listen to you yet you can’t even use your imagination to be in control of the situation. Or do you just like failing so much? To the extent you let a projection rule over you? You created me, Ryota.” With a smirk, he added, “control me then.”

Shooting Watanabe a glare, Miyadate crosses the few feet over to the other is before dragging him out of the room roughly, ignoring Watanabe’s incessant whining. He then pushes him towards the direction of the couch and starts to back the older man against it.

“Sit,” Miyadate orders when he knows that the back of Watanabe’s knees has hit the side of the sofa.

“You’re not giving me much of a choice,” Watanabe retorts shakily as his legs give in to the push and he falls onto the couch. Miyadate smiles, pleased that he is in control now.

“Why do you keep defying me?”

Honestly, it is a redundant question. It is essentially Miyadate asking himself why he made this Watanabe – _his_ Watanabe – this way. He doesn’t have an answer, so Watanabe remains silent.

Unable to say anything further, Miyadate slumps down next to Watanabe and the older man leans onto his shoulder.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Miyadate’s breath hitches and he knows he won't be able to stop the oncoming tears from spilling. He doesn’t know what he’s referring to. He doesn’t know why he said that. “Shota, tell me what to do.”

“Aren't you the one always telling me what to do?” The words are spiteful but Watanabe’s tone is anything but hostile.

“Just say something…” Miyadate whispers, sounding broken.

When Watanabe lifts his head from Miyadate’s shoulder, the latter turns to look at him and he finds tenderness in Watanabe’s. “Wake up.”

Miyadate’s blood runs cold.

 

“Ryota,” Watanabe calls softly and Miyadate feels that something about Watanabe’s manner is off but he goes over to him anyway.

Nothing has been right in this dream layer.

Upon seeing what Watanabe is holding, he loosens his hold over his work files and they clatter ungracefully onto the floor. In Watanabe’s hand, two red pills lie innocently. Miyadate doesn’t need to ask to know what they are. This is, after all, a scene he has constructed.

“These are for you,” Watanabe says quietly, hesitantly, like he doesn’t know that they are in Miyadate’s dream and that the latter has control over everything. Almost everything. “You said your headaches are getting worse, right?”

Why is Watanabe doing this to him?

In actuality, it is something he is doing to himself. Because he is too cowardly to commit suicide, he has to have Watanabe kill him. It is warped and disgusting, which makes Miyadate hate himself more than he already does, what with his own seemingly bizarre fantasy of completely owning Watanabe.

Ever since he has entered this dream layer, he has felt disdain towards himself, wondering how insane he is for imagining such a scenario. But he’s making amends, isn’t he? He wants to end this - that’s why he’s getting his Watanabe to offer him these pills. All he wants is redemption and if death is the key then let it be.

He knows he can’t control Watanabe. He knows that Watanabe doesn’t want to be controlled. But most importantly, he knows that this isn’t what he wants either. It’s what he thinks he wants (Watanabe to be docile and himself in command) because it seems to make him more of a man.

In reality, it doesn’t and it makes him seem more like a bastard. He knows that too and that’s why his resolve to stay in this dream layer is waning.

Silently, Miyadate accepts the pills and Watanabe beams. For a moment, he stares at the red tablets, wondering what they are called. But it doesn’t matter. He throws them into his mouth and grabs the glass on the tableside and gulps down a mouthful of water. It catches him by surprise when Watanabe tiptoes the next second to press a chaste kiss to his lip as he murmurs, “I love you, Ryota. I’ll always love you.”

All Miyadate does is smile as he bends down a little to carry Watanabe bridal-style. Watanabe doesn’t say anything as he hooks his arms around Miyadate’s neck, allowing the latter to carry him into their bedroom.

Carefully, Miyadate lowers Watanabe onto the bed and tucks him under the blankets before getting in behind him. He winds his arms around Watanabe’s waist and presses his face into the other's hair, inhaling the flowery shampoo scent as he feels his heartbeat slowing down. It thumps loudly against his rib cage, protesting its imminent end.

“I won't see you again, right?” Miyadate murmurs lovingly into Watanabe’s ear as he press soft kisses on the side of the latter’s face before mouthing at the shell of his ear, inciting small shivers through Watanabe’s body.

“I don’t know why you'd want to see me though.” Watanabe stifles a giggle by pressing his forearm to his mouth but Miyadate’s hand reaches over to pry his hand away almost immediately. He brings Watanabe’s fingers to his lip as he kisses them one by one and Watanabe sighs, content. “Isn’t the real me better? Didn't you marry him?”

 _“Because you’re mine,”_ Miyadate’s mind supplies but he remains silent, dropping Watanabe’s hand and choosing instead to place his kisses elsewhere on Watanabe’s face.

“Because I’m yours?” Watanabe asks, as if reading Miyadate’s mind, the question so innocent as he moves away a bit, from Miyadate’s eager mouth, just so that he has enough space to turn his head and look at Miyadate, a sparkle in his eye. “All of me is yours, Ryota.”

 _“This is Watanabe. This is Shota. Your Shota. Don't let him go.”_ Miyadate’s mind chants dangerously and he isn’t able to find a way to tune it out or turn it off as he feels his heartbeat slow down further.

“Goodnight, Shota.”

 

 

“Ryota, wake up!”

Despite feeling exhausted, Miyadate forces his eyes open upon hearing Watanabe’s voice.

“Hi,” Watanabe breathes, climbing on top of Miyadate and straddling his waist. Miyadate’s hands naturally go up to hold Watanabe by his hips. “I’m back. Don't you miss me?”

“Hey.”

The smile that graces Watanabe’s face easily takes Miyadate’s breath away. Silently, he lifts his hand and brushes a thumb across Watanabe’s cheekbone. How long has it been since he last saw his husband?

“How long has it been?” Miyadate asks, not even certain that Watanabe would know what he’s talking about.

Clearly, Watanabe does as he lets out a hearty laugh. “Don’t be melodramatic. I was only gone awhile for work.”

Awhile, Watanabe says, but, “How long?” Miyadate’s persistent.

The smile that was once on Watanabe’s lips is replaced but a frown as he presses his lips together. “Does it matter? I’m back now, right?”

But it does matter. Because Miyadate can’t remember a thing. He feels panic rising and the nerves in his toes all the way to his fingertips feel unsettling.

“Relax,” Watanabe whispers and leans down to steal a kiss. “We’re fine, aren't we?” He continues after breaking apart and then sits up again, hands resting on Miyadate’s chest.

The fingers tapping against his chest is distracting and Miyadate catches them, stills Watanabe’s actions before playing with his husband's fingers. “We are,” he says, his voice sounding distant to his own ears.

It doesn’t sound convincing at all. Not to Miyadate anyway. But it seems to be different for Watanabe. “Then that's enough.”

But is it really enough?

 

Something’s changing in their relationship. But it’s just a Miyadate’s gut feeling. There’s nothing concrete to prove that their dynamics are really changing. It isn’t something Miyadate should be concerned about. They’re already been married for years. They’ve also met many stormy seas before, and, every time, they manage to overcome their problems. So this time shouldn’t be any different.

Yet it feels so different that it scares Miyadate and he feels useless, unable to do anything to stop himself from feeling this way. Or do anything to prevent something catastrophic from happening between them. Though he doesn’t even know where the problem starts or where it lies. Simply, he can’t do anything about anything. He’s useless - at least, he isn’t wrong about everything.

It’s also hard to think that something’s wrong when everything feels so normal except Miyadate’s treacherous heart and mind telling him that something is wrong. Maybe there’s nothing wrong at all.

On top of that, it’s difficult to see that there’s a problem, even if there’s one, when Watanabe has been showing nothing but love towards Miyadate. The older man has been buying random things Miyadate likes, going with him to his favourite restaurants and even taking time off work to go to theme parks with him on some weekends.

But something’s still wrong, Miyadate thinks as he looks at Watanabe licking a stripe of vanilla ice cream from his cone.

 

‘He’s seeing another guy,’ Miyadate can’t help but suspect. Especially when Watanabe goes to bed with Miyadate at 11pm only to wake up and sneak out at 2.30am, all dressed up. Then coming back at 9am in the morning reeking with the smell of a cologne that neither of them uses.

Something has to be done. 

That's why Miyadate finally decides to do something about it one day. The clock reads 4am but he hasn’t really slept at all even though he went to bed together with Watanabe around 11pm.

It’s rare to see Watanabe in bed, Miyadate thinks, and smiles wryly at his curled up husband. As stealthily as possible, Miyadate gets out of the bed and goes over to the bedside table where Watanabe usually leaves his phone. Picking it up, he presses the power button and the screen brightens up. There’s a passcode locking the phone. Without any thought, Miyadate keys in their anniversary date and the phone unlocks with a click. He curses mentally as he mutes Watanabe’s phone and dims the phone’s brightness.

Quickly accessing his husband’s messages, he scrolls through them, trying to find an unfamiliar name or any indecent messages. He finds nothing. So he goes to Watanabe’s email next and he finds nothing there as well.

The first thought that runs across Miyadate’s mind is that Watanabe has deleted them.

Without thinking any further, Miyadate locks the phone and sets it on the table. He picks his own phone up and goes to the living room, hoping Watanabe hasn’t sensed him missing from the bed. Steadying his breathing, Miyadate starts to dial a particular number but his hands shake as he keys in the numbers.

“Hello?” He’s calling a private investigator a colleague had recommended to him a few weeks ago when Miyadate was drunk and let slip his suspicion. “I need you to follow someone for me.”

 

“Who are you going out with?” Miyadate asks harshly, colder than he intended when he sees Watanabe wearing a pair of boots.

“Out? With some friends. One of my teams,” Watanabe tells him normally. “I told you about it, remember?”

“I don’t,” Miyadate says plainly and Watanabe glares.

“Then that’s your problem, not mine. Anyway, I don’t need your permission to go out. I can hang out with whoever I want.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Miyadate snaps. He’s expecting a fight. That’s all they’ve been doing these days - quarrelling, shouting and avoiding each other. “I never know what you’re doing outside. You’re always saying you have this and that engagement, I hardly see you anymore. You don’t pick up my calls when you’re out. You come home late almost every night, and sneak out in the middle of the night. For all I know you may be sleeping with other men when you’re out there, you’re always so close to - ”

A loud smack resounds in their living room as Watanabe’s palm connects with Miyadate’s cheek. “You’re mad,” Watanabe breathes out shakily.

While Miyadate is to be blamed for most of the fights starting due to his various accusations, Watanabe is responsible as well. They’re in a relationship, they’re married. They should talk things out and not leave problems as they are until they go out of hand and become an irreversible complication. Like now.

Watanabe might blame Miyadate for being insecure, but there are reasons why Miyadate feels this way. While Watanabe most likely never did anything intentionally to make Miyadate unconfident and uncertain, he never did anything to reassure his husband either. They both knew that Watanabe was the more sensitive one between the two of them. But they also knew that Miyadate was the one with more self-doubts and not once did Watanabe try to help him.

Or at least that’s what Miyadate remembers. 

He looks at Watanabe whose bottom lip is quivering in anger and he’s expecting Watanabe to start shouting back, but he doesn’t. His husband is staring at him with a blank look before his lips twist into a sardonic smile.

“Maybe we should get a divorce,” Watanabe says calmly. “You haven’t been acting normal since I came back. You don’t trust me and don’t even try to deny that. I know you read through my messages and checked my emails. I know you hired a PI to follow me. I have _never_ snuck out in the middle of the night before. I know you think I’m cheating but I’m not and I don’t care if you believe me or not.” Watanabe smiles bitterly, his tone now harsh. “You don’t trust me anyway.”

“No,” Miyadate starts, trying to explain but Watanabe shakes his head.

“If you don’t trust me, I don’t see any meaning in continuing our marriage anymore. I’ll be staying at my friend’s house. I’ll come back and take my things later.” Watanabe pushes his hair back in frustration. “I’ll send you my lawyer’s letter.” And with that, he leaves, slamming the door shut in his wake.

The sound of the door slamming rings in Miyadate’s ears as he slumps down onto the couch wondering where he went wrong.

 

The sound of shuffling wakes Miyadate up since he wasn’t deep in sleep to begin with. Opening his eyes and turning his head to the side, he sees Watanabe’s back view, bent over their shared wardrobe, taking clothes out and piling them into his suitcase.

 _‘Don't go,’_ Miyadate thinks but he knows that there’s nothing holding them together anymore. The divorce papers have been signed. Not wanting to startle Watanabe, he remains on the bed, pretending to be asleep, shutting his eyes when Watanabe makes his way over.

Soft hands caress his face before moving to his forehead, brushing some stray strands aside. Miyadate has to resist every fibre of urge in his body to not open his eyes and see what’s happening. See his husband's, _ex_ -husband's face so close for what may be the last time. He wants to take the other's hand, lace their fingers together and assure himself that they’re alright.

A gentle kiss pressed to his forehead. The next one falls on his lips, telling him that this is goodbye.

“Bye,” Watanabe whispers when he’s at the door, luggage handle in his hand. It isn’t meant for Miyadate to hear but the room is so quiet save for the sound of the fan blowing from the air-con that Miyadate hears it loud and clear, the words ringing in his head long after the door closes behind Watanabe.

Counting to five in his head, Miyadate climbs off the bed and leaves the room without bothering with a shirt. He walks out to the corridor and stops there, leaning against the wall as he watches Watanabe pick photo frames up and putting them back down.

When Watanabe makes his way over to the front door, Miyadate finds that he has to say something. “Were you planning on leaving without saying anything?”

A soft gasp escapes Watanabe as he turns around, meeting Miyadate’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” Watanabe says but he doesn’t deny Miyadate’s accusation, voice wavering but his hand remains firm on his luggage’s handle. “Maybe we can be together in another life.”

“I don’t believe in that.”

“What ever happened to the dreamer in you?” Disappointment laces Watanabe’s voice and he reaches out to pat Miyadate’s shoulder but retracts it halfway and curls his fingers, smiling sadly. “Goodbye, Ryota. And thank you for everything.”

Hand reaching for the door handle, Watanabe gives Miyadate one last genuine smile, trying to look as happy as he can before he looks away. As he’s about to open the door, Miyadate’s larger hand covers his own on the handle, promoting him to turn his head, confused.

He stares at his husband, his ex-husband, and asks softly, “What is it?”

“One more kiss?” Miyadate asks, feeling his heartbeat speed up because he’s expecting Watanabe to deny him.

Instead, Watanabe turns completely until his back is resting against the front door and he rests his hands loosely around Miyadate’s neck. Meanwhile, Miyadate has subconsciously wrapped his arms around Watanabe’s waist.

Watanabe indulges him, sliding down slightly so he’s looking up at Miyadate with hooded eyes. And for the last time, Miyadate leans in close and closes the distance between their lips. 

He kisses eagerly because this is going to be their last time. Under him, he can feel Watanabe struggling to break away but he continues until Watanabe pushes at his shoulder. He finally detaches himself from Watanabe’s lips, pleased to see a faint blush on Watanabe’s cheek. He’s glad he can still affect his ex-husband like that.

Without exchanging any more words or glances, Watanabe quickly opens the door and walks out. He doesn’t turn back and Miyadate watches him walk further away.

“I love you,” Miyadate calls out. The touch of Watanabe’s soft lips is still lingering on his.

Watanabe turns back to look at Miyadate with sad eyes that turn glassy with tears and he presses his lips tightly together. “Don't tell that to me. I’m not the person you want to tell that to.” And then he turns and walks to the lift. Miyadate remains at the doorway.

Dressed in only a pair of sweats, Miyadate debates if he should stop Watanabe from leaving. His bare feet feel cold on the linoleum flooring.

The lift comes and Watanabe enters without looking back. It’s the last time they’re going to see each other. He’s leaving forever.

Yet Miyadate can’t bring himself to take another step forward. In the back of his mind, he remembers feeling this way before.

 

Miyadate sees himself in a church, standing at the altar dressed in a white tuxedo, staring at the grand wooden door that leads into the chapel in anticipation. Most of the guests seated are faceless for some queer reason, save a few of his close friends whom he recognises, namely Iwamoto, Fukazawa, Abe and Sakuma.

The doors swing open and Watanabe is standing at the end of the red carpet, dressed in a white tuxedo which matches Miyadate’s. He looks absolutely gorgeous and Miyadate has never felt so lucky in his life before.

They have always wanted to try one of the weddings they had seen on the television airing variety shows about weddings and chose the church ceremony because it seemed the most romantic. So they agreed on having a chapel wedding.

When the organ starts to play, Watanabe walks down the aisle, his mother by his side, their arms hooked together. It isn’t the conventional kind of chapel wedding where the bride is walking down the aisle with her father by her side; there are two grooms instead of one for starters. As Watanabe approaches the altar, Miyadate breaks out into a silly grin but it falters when he sees Watanabe’s forlorn expression. His heart clenches tightly in his chest.

Standing together on the altar side by side, Miyadate thinks this is his dream come true. It doesn’t seem like Watanabe shares the same dreams as him.

“I do,” Miyadate says loud and clear, his voice reverberating in the small chapel.

The priest looks at Watanabe and the whole place waits silently for Watanabe to say the two words. Watanabe opens his mouth but nothing comes out and Miyadate takes Watanabe’s hand and squeezes it.

“Shota?” Miyadate looks at the man next him, his soon to be husband, and worries his bottom lip between his teeth.

The chapel doors burst open and a bright light shines, so blinding that Miyadate has to shield his eyes. It’s so dramatic that it feels unreal. He looks at Watanabe again and finds the latter staring at the entrance where a figure is standing. Miyadate squints but he can’t see a face. At the same time, Watanabe takes one step away from the altar.

Before Miyadate can say ‘wait’, Watanabe’s running towards the exit. The guests stand up and start to leave and Miyadate rushes down onto the carpet, trying to push past the crowd. By the time he reaches the door, Watanabe is gone.

Someone taps his shoulder and he turns around, coming face to face with Fukazawa. “What is it?” Miyadate asks, voice hoarse and he feels tears pricking at the side of his eyes.

Fukazawa brings his hand up, phone in hand with the screen facing Miyadate. “You didn’t call me.”

Miyadate jolts awake, sitting upright as beads of perspiration cling onto his forehead. He raises a hand to his hair to comb through it, trying to calm himself down as he recalls the dream.

It was a nightmare. There was no wedding ceremony. They didn't get married in a chapel. And Watanabe definitely did not run away from signing the papers back then. But his hands are shaking and he can’t help but think about how he’s in the middle of a divorce. The papers have been signed by both parties but there are other things which have yet to be taken care of.

If it’s a property issue, Miyadate would give everything to Watanabe in a heartbeat but it isn’t just that. Though Miyadate isn’t sure what exactly the problem is either.

He stares lifelessly at his phone, suddenly recalling something. An advice from long ago. Was he supposed to call Fukazawa at one point in time?

 _And give Fukka a call._ He sees Abe’s face in his mind but he can’t remember when it happened. _I mean it._

Would calling Fukazawa have salvaged his relationship?

 

“You okay?” Abe asks as he watches Miyadate take a sip of coffee with unsteady hands that quiver as Miyadate lays the cup down.

“I’m fine,” Miyadate replies as normally as he can. He doesn’t sound alright.

After that nightmare a few days ago, Miyadate decides that it would be best to find Abe. Since the words that cannot stop replaying in his mind seem to have something to do with Abe. Maybe they don’t and Miyadate’s own brain is playing tricks on him, giving him false impressions. But it’s worth a shot.

Abe gives him a sceptical look and Miyadate’s prepared for the younger man to nag at him but it doesn’t come. It never comes and Miyadate feels something strange about the situation. He’s almost certain that Abe would start worrying endlessly like he always does. But the younger man doesn’t look like he’s going to prod further, choosing to poke his cake instead.

“I’m not okay,” Miyadate says abruptly as Abe is eating from a slice of chocolate cake. “It’s about Shota.”

The understanding smile that appears on Abe’s face looks fake but Miyadate decides not to dwell on it. At least Abe’s offering a listening ear.

When Abe doesn’t ask him for details, Miyadate shifts his hands to his lap and his right hand goes straight for his wedding ring. Taking in a deep breath as he observes Abe’s face for any sign of change, he pulls the ring and it comes off easily. It breaks away from his hand and Miyadate squishes it once, twice before putting it back on. He gives Abe a half-hearted smile and informs the younger man that he has something to deal with but he totally forgot about it.

Nodding, Abe stays seated and doesn’t say ‘bye’ when Miyadate stands up to leave. His coffee and cake remains untouched on the table.

It’s just a dream, Miyadate tells himself. 

 

This should be Abe, Miyadate thinks, staring openly at the man seated opposite him. They’re in the same cafe from a week ago. But that was a dream, or so Miyadate had thought. He isn’t actually sure. His mind has been fuzzy these few days. So he decided to invite Abe out again. Though this time, the younger man brings Sakuma along with him. 

Abe feels like a different person but Miyadate can’t quite put a finger anywhere.

Meanwhile, Sakuma is just... Sakuma.

“We had so much trouble avoiding that projection of yours!” Sakuma starts and Miyadate chokes on his latte. “He’s so mean and fierce! Is that really your impression of Abe-chan, Ryota? And I can’t believe your projection of me is so weak that we couldn’t even find him! Not that we want to bump into him. It’s easier for us this way actually. But that Abe-chan projection of yours is really hard to deal with.” A frown appears on Sakuma’s face at the end of his sentence as if he’s recalling something bad.

The whole time, Abe just stares at Sakuma with his jaw dropped. He composes himself quickly and pinches Sakuma’s arm, eliciting a squeak from the smaller man. “Start slow. Remember the plan?”

“But we don’t have time,” Sakuma whines and tries to look as pitiable as possible but Abe doesn’t fall for it, smiling apologetically at Miyadate.

“We’re so sorry, Ryota. It must be very confusing for you right now but we really don’t have time to explain the full story to you. We just need you to trust us.” Abe looks at Miyadate very seriously as he gathers his thoughts, ready to tell Miyadate his grand plan.

“Why should I?” Miyadate says immediately, his defensive nature acting up and he looks wearily at the couple. “What’s all this about?”

“You should have disguised as Shota to get him to listen,” Sakuma sighs and slides down in his chair a bit, pursing his lips in contemplation.

“I’m not a forger, I’m just a point man! I only know how to collect information and give out instructions. I can’t turn into someone else! I’m not Fukka!” Abe argues and Miyadate’s head starts to ache even more as he watches the scene unfold before him.

“And a chemist,” Sakuma adds in gleefully. “You experiment with all those cool stuff for the dream industry.”

As easily distracted as ever, Abe nods, suddenly forgetting what he initially wanted to tell Miyadate. “Yes and it’s been a terrible day for me. Trying to help us follow you all the way down here and all.” He’s saying this to Miyadate but the latter is completely clueless about what he’s referring to. Follow him down to where?

“The kick is going to happen soon. Can you just please go to sleep,” Sakuma begs with puppy eyes, a sense of urgency in his voice and Miyadate almost falls for it but he doesn’t because the situation is too bizarre.

And then Abe whines to Sakuma. “You can’t do it like that!”

Confusion floods Miyadate’s mind. “Wait. I really don’t get it guys. One by one, please.”

There’s a hint of pity in Sakuma’s eyes as he talks. “We don’t have much time, Ryota so I’m going to make it quick.” Taking in a deep breath, he starts, “you’re five layers deep in a dream and the four of us, minus Shota, are working on creating kicks in every level to wake you up. Iwamoto’s one layer above planning it. When you wake up there, please don’t create a projection of Iwamoto like how you did with me and Abe-chan here. Fukka’s a layer above that so don’t make his projection there. Then it’s Abe-chan and Iwamoto again, then it’s me and Fukka. Got it?”

All Sakuma gets in response is a blank look and Abe lets out a frustrated noise. “Ryota. Just don’t create projections of any of us except Shota, okay?”

That sounds easier. Miyadate nods. “But what do you mean by I’m in five layers deep? I don’t - ” he stops halfway and tries to rip his wedding finger from his left hand like he always can when he’s dreaming but it doesn’t come off so he pulls it off and tries squishing it but it doesn’t bend either. “I’m in reality, am I not?”

“You’re not,” Sakuma whines and pulls out a nico-nico key chain; it’s Sakuma’s totem, Miyadate recognises it. Then Sakuma groans. “But I can’t tell you how my totem works. Where's your totem, Ryota?”

Underneath the table, Miyadate has taken off his wedding ring, twirling it with his fingers and trying to mould it. It doesn’t bend a single bit and Miyadate takes it as a sign that this is reality.

“It’s really a dream,” Abe cuts in, as he takes a spherical globe shaped key chain from his pocket. “All I can say is my totem’s density is different here so it’s definitely a dream. Please trust us, Ryota.”

The ring remains a solid metal no matter how many times Miyadate presses against its cool surface so he finds it hard to believe the pair. But this is Abe and Sakuma, they’re two of his closest friends and he knows that they won't lie to him. Something's stopping him from believing them. He looks down at the wedding band in his hand and wonders if it’s lying to him.

“Erm...Abe-chan…” Sakuma whispers, sounding afraid. When Abe doesn’t respond, too engrossed in explaining to Miyadate why this is a dream, Sakuma pulls his arm roughly and points to a falling building outside the cafe.

“Oh no.” Abe pales as he watches other buildings disintegrate into ashes. “We need to get out.”

The three of them manage to rush out of the café before it collapsed.

“What’s going on?” Miyadate shouts, feeling a splitting headache.

“Ryota, you’re losing control!” Sakuma shouts over the crumbling buildings. “Just let go! Just wake up!”

The last thing Miyadate sees is Abe pulling Sakuma out of a falling building’s way. But he doesn’t hear a crash; the collapsing structure has vanquished in mid-air.

 

Sakuma isn’t there anymore when Miyadate wakes up. He sits upright and the comforter falls to his lap.

The first thing he realises is his lack of a shirt, and then another person lying next to him. Looking to his side, he spots a mop of black and messy curls and concludes that it’s Watanabe.

 _‘But which one?’_ Miyadate thinks as he worries his lower lip.

Only when Watanabe makes a soft noise does Miyadate snap out of his reverie.

“Shota? Are you awake?”

“Waking up,” Watanabe mumbles, voice thick with sleep as he stretches and slowly opens one eye to peek at Miyadate. A cute smile appears on his face when he sees Miyadate gazing at him tenderly. “Morning,” he greets lazily. “You want breakfast?”

The question is a dead giveaway and Miyadate knows exactly which Watanabe this one is.

“It’s okay,” Miyadate says, lying down and pulling Watanabe close to him. “Let's sleep in today.”

All he gets in response is a half-hearted hum as Watanabe curls in towards him. Miyadate smiles and forces himself to remember this moment. Nothing had seemed right in this layer the last time he was here but it’s okay. Because he can make things right now. He can make amendments.

 

The next day, they sleep in again and they can afford to because it’s a Sunday. Pressing lazy kisses to Watanabe’s nape, Miyadate sighs comfortably before rolling onto his back, rubbing Watanabe’s spine with his fingers in slow, circular motions.

Keening softly, Watanabe leans into Miyadate’s touch as he flutters his eyes open.

“I don’t mind you going out, you know,” Miyadate tells Watanabe and stops his hand movement, regretting how the words came out. “As in, you don’t have to listen to me or anything.”

Silence from Watanabe makes Miyadate jittery but he catches something akin to confusion in Watanabe’s eyes and guesses his husband has no idea what he’s talking about or trying to say. Miyadate has got to be clearer than that.

“I mean you’re funny. And charming. And a really good conversationalist. Forbidding you,” Miyadate stops there, rethinking his choice of words. “Not allowing you to.” He needs a mouth filter. But Watanabe’s pressing his lips together, looking like he’s trying to suppress a laugh and Miyadate thinks it’s okay to continue. “Stopping you from hanging out with people doesn’t sit well with me. You’re cute and a really lovely person though occasionally you can be too direct and border on being mean. But I still want you to feel appreciated and loved. And not just by me. I think you deserve it.”

 _‘You must hate me,’_ Miyadate thinks when Watanabe keeps quiet but these words go unsaid.

“What’s this all of a sudden?” Watanabe finally asks, sounding mildly amused.

“Pillow talk,” Miyadate answers softly with warm eyes and Watanabe mimics his expression. “You’re very handsome,” Miyadate compliments and Watanabe bursts out laughing, covering his face; a gesture of shyness.

“It’s been a while since you praised me,” Watanabe tells Miyadate with a lopsided grin while chewing on his bottom lip. “I’m happy.”

“We can make this right,” Miyadate takes a moment to say aloud and he doesn’t know if he’s talking to Watanabe or trying to convince himself.

 

Miyadate does his best to be a good husband - the best husband ever.

But he cannot stop feeling the green monster from eating him alive from the inside when he sees Watanabe smiling happily at a text from probably a colleague, another dreamer he’s working with, calling him ‘beautiful’.

His husband's handsome – it’s something he can’t deny. It’s normal for him to be praised, though it’s something Miyadate hasn't really come to accept. He’s still trying.

“You’re married,” Miyadate decides to remind him in an off-handed manner, hoping his harsh tone doesn’t accidentally slip through.

It does, if a scowl on Watanabe’s face thrown his way is anything to go by.

“Stop talking to this guy.” Miyadate forgets to add a ‘maybe you should’ in front to make it sound more like a neutral suggestion and it ends up sounding like an imperative even though he didn't mean for it to.

“Obey me. Worship me,” Watanabe says in a mocking voice. “I thought we were over this?” He ends it with a sigh, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “What happened to wanting people other than you to love and appreciate me?”

The words hit Miyadate hard as he recalls what he said just the week before. He feels like a hypocrite but it also feels like he got slapped awake. It’s the first time Miyadate loses control over his subconscious ever since coming back into this layer again.

“I’m sorry.”

In response, Watanabe shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. I don’t want to hear that.”

Opening and closing his mouth, not knowing what to say, Miyadate opts for encircling his arms around Watanabe’s waist and rests his chin on the latter’s shoulder. He presses a kiss to the side of Watanabe’s neck and Watanabe reacts, leaning in, resting against Miyadate’s chest. Hand coming up slowly to play with Watanabe’s hair, Miyadate starts talking again. “I’ll wake up, don’t worry.”

And all Watanabe does is hum in response, but Miyadate can feel him shaking a little and he knows that Watanabe has started to cry. Thinking back, he’s always making Watanabe cry and he feels that he has to make it up to his husband somehow.

Pressing a kiss to Watanabe’s cheek from behind, Miyadate lies down and gently pulls Watanabe down as well. Watanabe allows Miyadate to pull him back but when they’re lying down, he still refuses to turn and face Miyadate. But Miyadate understands and doesn’t want to force Watanabe. So he pulls Watanabe closer and snuggles him. “I’ll wake up. I promise.”

Cheap words mean nothing but Miyadate finds himself determined to hold on to the promise. Determined to make it happen no matter what.

Watanabe nods slightly.

 

A familiar figure stops in front of Miyadate, surprising him. “Hey, Ryota. Thanks for not creating our projections this time. Seems like you listened to Abe and Sakuma.”

“Hikaru?”

“The real one. That's me,” Iwamoto says happily as he shoves his hands into his pocket. “Is it perpetually cold in this dream layer or what?” He jokes and goes over to nudge Miyadate playfully. “Let's go to a cafe.”

They arrive at one of Miyadate’s favourite cafe - he roughly remembers meeting Abe and Sakuma here some time ago in another dream layer but he can’t recall exactly when. Iwamoto orders their drinks at the counter and comes back with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

“I hope your memory of this drink doesn’t disappoint,” Iwamoto laughs as he takes the first sip and nods his head satisfactorily. “I guess you still remember the taste.”

After his encounter with Abe and Sakuma in this particular cafe, Miyadate has thought through matters on his own; the state he is in, the complexity of the situation and the possibility that he’s been in a dream for quite some time now. What if he’s really down five, now four layers deep in a dream? It’s a likelihood he cannot rule out.

Another thing for sure though, is that he’s definitely less confused now, more receptive and open to what Iwamoto has to tell him. And he actually finds himself anticipating Iwamoto’s words.

“Shota misses you like hell,” Iwamoto says before taking a sip from his hot chocolate.

It shocks Miyadate because that wasn't what he was expecting.

“He called Fukka four nights ago, crying, saying that he wants to go home,” Iwamoto continues, not giving Miyadate time to recover from his shock. “Is that enough motivation for you to cooperate with me? I just need you to be asleep tomorrow by 5pm and the kick will come. Fukka’s doing it. He knows what he’s doing, don’t worry.”

“I would have agreed even without you telling me that anyway,” Miyadate retorts and Iwamoto smiles.

“It’s not only to push you in this layer, Ryota. Hurry wake up in reality and go back to him.” He ends it with a sincere smile and Miyadate feels himself relaxing.

Never has Iwamoto been so reassuring as now.

 

They’re sitting on their bed, facing each other because Miyadate said he needs to talk. He thinks back to what Iwamoto tells him and feels a dull ache throbbing in his chest. Watanabe’s been crying.

“I’m sorry.” Miyadate’s voice is shaking and he tries his best to steady it but it’s not working. “I’m sorry for how I treated you.”

The bed seems to have sunk even more from his heavy heart. Watanabe moves closer until their knees touch. He smiles.

“It’s okay.”

“I've been a terrible husband.”

“It’s okay.”

“I shouldn't have been so domineering.”

“It’s okay.”

“I should have showed you I loved you more. It wasn't a healthy relationship.”

“It’s still okay.”

“Why?” Miyadate snaps, getting fed up with Watanabe’s repetitive responses. He’s supposed to scold him, yell him and hate him. So why is he acting so calm and normal, telling Miyadate that everything he did was okay? “It’s not okay,” Miyadate finds himself saying.

“Because I love you.” Watanabe looks at him seriously. “And it’s not only me. I’m sure the real me loves you too.”

Miyadate’s eyes widen. It’s the first time this Watanabe is telling him he’s in a dream. While he’s knows that it is a dream, since he’s been lucid dreaming - aware that he’s in a dream the whole time - it’s the first time he hears confirmation from this projection.

“I told you to wake up, didn't I?”

Yes, he did. The scene is clear in Miyadate’s head as he replays the exchange in his mind. 

_“Just say something…”_

_“Wake up.”_

“Go back to him,” Watanabe says softly, moving closer to Miyadate. “I think he misses you too.”

Tears start to well up in Watanabe’s eyes and Miyadate panics a little, hands coming up to cup his husband’s face. “Shh,” he hushes Watanabe like he always does when the latter cries. “It’s okay. Please don’t cry.”

When Watanabe sniffs, Miyadate suddenly feels nervous like they’re going to have their first kiss again. He holds his breath and moves in closer, like he did the first time in high school, and kisses Watanabe slowly.

They both don’t deepen the kiss and remain like that for a while until Watanabe pulls away to lean his head on Miyadate’s shoulder, breathing shakily.

Not long after, Watanabe falls asleep in Miyadate’s arm, not from crying but from Miyadate’s control crumbling. He knows he’s going to wake up from the dream layer soon.

When Miyadate checks the clock, it’s almost time. Loosening his hold around Watanabe, he moves away just a bit to see his husband’s face. So this is what goodbye feels like, he thinks, and closes his eyes, prepared for the kick.

 

 

High school Watanabe stares at Miyadate, bewildered at his sudden appearance. “What are you - ”

He doesn’t get to complete his sentence as Miyadate closes the distance between them quickly with a few long strides and pulls the younger boy into a bone-crushing hug. On reflex, Watanabe’s arms come up to clutch onto the back of Miyadate’s t-shirt. When he realises that the older man is sniffing, he rests his palms flat on the former’s back.

“There, there,” Watanabe tries to comfort Miyadate as he pats the other's back, resulting into Miyadate crying even more. “It’s okay?” Watanabe makes another attempt but to no avail.

Exasperatedly, Watanabe sighs and Miyadate chokes out a sob though it sounds more like a chuckle.

“Are you laughing at me?” Watanabe gasps, appalled. “You’re crying!” He points out the obvious and Miyadate stops crying, his body shaking with mirth as he laughs against Watanabe. “You have no rights!”

Pulling away, Miyadate takes one look at Watanabe’s face and smiles as he brushes his fingers against Watanabe’s cheeks, recalling some fond memories from their high school days.

“I missed you,” Miyadate whispers as he bends down a little to press their foreheads together.

Giggling a little, Watanabe tries to pull away but Miyadate rests one of his hands at the back of his head, keeping him in place. As he stares into Miyadate’s eyes, a sparkle of amusement flashing in his eyes. He thinks he likes this position.

“Shopping?” Watanabe suggests, pushing his head forward forcefully and pulling away, laughing out loud when Miyadate rubs at the sore spot on his forehead.

“Theme park,” Miyadate says, walking off in a certain direction, ignoring the scene Watanabe’s whining and grumbling.

Not even a few minutes later, Watanabe’s jogging to his side and lacing their fingers together while bumping their arms together playfully. Watanabe’s not walking in a straight line on purpose, finding every opportunity to sway around and Miyadate can’t stop the smile from surfacing on his face.

 

On his way back from school one day, Watanabe gets stopped in his tracks by a familiar voice.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Watanabe Shota.”

Watanabe grins; he'd recognise that voice anywhere. Spinning around, he comes face to face with his best friend. Although his best friend looks much older than him.

“Fukka,” he greets cheerily, his lips curving upwards automatically when the other smiles at him.

Upon approaching Watanabe, Fukazawa ruffles the other’s hair. “Aren’t you quite the looker in your teens,” he teases as Watanabe swats at his hand.

“And you’re old,” Watanabe jeers, prompting Fukka to make a face at him. Then Watanabe’s smile slips from his face. “Just like Ryota.”

Matching Watanabe’s expression, Fukazawa tones down his smile and pats the younger boy on the shoulder. “I’m here to talk to you about him actually.”

“Okay…” Watanabe says then nods over to a bench and they both make their way over.

“So!” Fukazawa starts, sounding more excited than necessary as he folds his hands on his lap. “We, as in me, Hikaru, Abe-chan and Sakuma are preparing a kick to wake Miyadate up from this level. Okay, not exactly because I've done my part – I woke him from the previous level. Actually, the other three have also already done their part in other levels by seeking you or Miyadate out to, I don’t know, convince Miyadate to go to sleep. But Abe and Iwamoto are working again, to wake him from this level.” He pauses there and carefully watches Watanabe’s expression, wanting the younger boy to fully absorb everything before continuing.

A quick nod from Watanabe tells Fukazawa he can go on. Little did Watanabe know that the other is about to make fun of him and not talk about more important things. So typical of Fukazawa.

“And it takes the two of them, you know why?” Watanabe shakes his head, an indication for Fukazawa to continue. “Because you’re so cuteeee and he can’t bear to leave you,” Fukazawa coos annoyingly in a baby voice and attempt to squish Watanabe’s cheek only to be smacked on the head really hard.

All Fukazawa does is glare and rubs his head but Watanabe doesn’t care. “And me?”

“You’re still in the states.” Fukazawa knits his brows together and purses his lips, looking unsure about whether it’s okay to give this piece of information. Probably.

“Oh.”

“But the problem is, you’re coming back soon. You’re landing soon and we need Miyadate to be up before you come back. We don’t want you to know. We don’t want you to worry.”

A wry smile appears on Watanabe’s face. “How considerate of you guys.” The sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed.

“It’s for your sake,” Fukazawa explains and Watanabe huffs, knowing that his best friend is right. “Anyway just get Miyadate into bed this Friday by 8pm.”

Watanabe scoffs. “I can get him into bed any time.”

“I’m not talking about that, you brat,” Fukazawa scolds and pulls Watanabe’s ear.

“Let go!” Struggling out of Fukazawa’s hold, Watanabe shoots him a glare before checking whether his ear is still there.

“So?” Fukazawa prompts, a hint of urgency in his voice and Watanabe fidgets. “What?” Fukazawa asks, noticing Watanabe’s dilemma.

“But I’ll miss him…” Watanabe’s voice is shaky and Fukazawa’s eyes soften.

His heart starts to feel more for Miyadate. It may be said in Watanabe’s voice but Fukazawa knows better, knows that this Watanabe is just a projection of Miyadate and it’s really Miyadate’s own subconscious saying this.

It’s Miyadate’s subconscious clinging on to the hope that high school Watanabe misses him as much as he misses the younger boy. But this is also what worries Fukazawa because high school Watanabe doesn’t exist anymore and there’s no way to find out how he feels.

It’s Miyadate’s subconscious clinging on to the impossibility and unreal. And this stems from his insecurity and inherent fear that the present Watanabe doesn’t love him as much as he used to, like back in high school.

“I know you love him a lot.” Fukazawa offers a kind smile. “I can see it.”

Whether Fukazawa is referring to the past or present, Watanabe doesn’t know. But he wants to.

“Do I still love him now?”

“Of course you do. I can still see it now.”

The uncertainty in Watanabe’s eyes fade away and it’s like a fog has cleared. “I’ll do it.”

 

On Friday, in the late afternoon, is when Watanabe brings it up. He remembers Fukazawa’s words clearly. Every single word.

“Maybe it’s time for you to go back?” Watanabe says as he concentrates on walking atop the side of a pavement where there’s a slightly raised path. He loses his footing but manages to keep himself upright and gets back on again.

“Yeah?” Miyadate asks, speeding up to walk a few steps behind Watanabe, making sure the boy doesn’t fall flat on his face.

Watanabe purses his lips and nods. “Mm hm.”

“So you think I should go back?”

When Watanabe jumps off the last step, Miyadate’s by his side to make sure he doesn’t lose his balance. Watanabe thinks to himself that Miyadate’s being overprotective. But it feels good to have someone worrying about you. He smiles, certain that this is something he'll miss.

“Why not? I mean for starters, you’re really old and I’m pretty young. Pretty and young.”

Miyadate scoffs at that but agrees though he'd never admit it aloud.

“Go back where?” Miyadate can’t help but ask despite knowing what the answer's going to be.

With mirth dancing in his eyes, Watanabe attaches himself to Miyadate’s arm and leans on it. “Go back to meeeeee.”

Easier said than done, but Miyadate smiles nonetheless, finding himself agreeing to it quicker than he'd like to. “So what? How does this go about?”

“I don’t know?” Watanabe says with a frown. “How did you get back here? We can go sleep together.”

“Go _to_ sleep together,” Miyadate corrects, irritated.

“Yeah, whatever.” As usual, Watanabe brushes him off and he can’t fight off the stupid smile crawling onto his lips.

“Then you can wake up.” It’s a rather sound and feasible conclusion coming from high schooler Watanabe. Though Miyadate is pretty sure adult Watanabe can do better.

“I’ll take you home?” Miyadate suggests, hoping that it doesn’t sound wrong. “To my house I mean.” He’s just making it sound worse.

Watanabe laughs. “I guess you could. There’s no difference anyway.”

 

Walking out of the bathroom, Watanabe finds Miyadate fast asleep. He looks at the digital clock that read 7.45pm and smiles. He pads over lightly, dropping the fluffy towel on the floor on the way and crawls into the bed. Miyadate looks peaceful sleeping like that. No frowns etched on his face and free of wrinkle lines. Watanabe bends down and kisses his forehead, not caring about the way his hair is tickling Miyadate’s face. He wouldn't be able to feel it anyway.

“Goodbye, Ryota,” he mouths against Miyadate’s hair as he inhales a floral scent, telling him that Miyadate used his shampoo and he smiles, albeit sadly. “Thank you for missing me.”

Then he adjusts himself until he’s comfortable under the covers and hooks his pinky with Miyadate’s before sleep takes over.

 

 

The air feels stale and the place smells like sanitised liquid. There are tubes from a machine connected to various parts of Miyadate’s body. When Miyadate breathes out, the oxygen mask fogs up. He thinks he’s been here before.

It’s quite. Awfully quiet, and Miyadate has half a mind to rip the oxygen mask off because it’s starting to suffocate him. But he doesn’t even know if he can move at all. He squints his eyes as he tries to clench his fingers into a fist but fails. Then the room's door slides open and Watanabe walks in, closes the door then sets a fruit basket on one of the tables by the window before coming over in front of Miyadate’s bed.

Miyadate opens his eyes further and Watanabe lets out a small gasp.

“Oh my gosh,” Watanabe chokes, rushing over to Miyadate’s bed side and clutching on to his hand as if he'd disappear any time. “Ryota. Ryota,” he repeats Miyadate’s name like a mantra like he’s in need of comfort. Then he’s pulling Miyadate’s hand to his face and kissing it, pressing it to his cheek, feeling the warmth in Miyadate’s palm and fingers. “You’re awake.”

That causes Miyadate to frown. He knows he’s in the hospital but for how long? He also knows that there’s somewhere he should be. But it’s definitely not here.

This isn’t the place he promised his high school Watanabe he'd be at.

Miyadate’s eyes widen at that thought - his high school Watanabe.

So firstly, he needs answers. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Weeks?” Watanabe’s voice cracks as he touches Miyadate’s face. “You just slipped out of consciousness. I didn't know what to do. You were gone for like forever.”

All Miyadate sees is Watanabe’s mouth moving and he doesn’t really register any words. There’s something unfamiliar about this Watanabe. Like he hasn't seen or interacted with him before. 

It feels like this Watanabe is only a figment of his imagination. While he looks and talks like the Watanabe Shota Miyadate knows, he still feels strange and foreign, as if Miyadate doesn’t know him.

A soft beeping noise cuts through the room’s silence and it’s only then does Miyadate realise that Watanabe has stopped talking. When he looks at Watanabe, the latter is giving him an apologetic look.

“I have to go back to work.” No, the real Watanabe wouldn't do this to him. “Take care, Ryota.” He leans in and presses a kiss to Miyadate’s forehead before leaving the room without a second glance back.

Even the press of his lips feel unfamiliar.

Moments later, the door slides open again and Miyadate half wishes it to be Watanabe walking through the door. But there’s no such luck as Iwamoto and Abe comes walking through it instead.

“Yes!” It’s the first thing Iwamoto’s says when he sees Miyadate conscious and hi-fives Abe excitedly.

Miyadate starts to wonder if his friends are mad. On second thought, what if he’s the crazy one? Or maybe not, he concludes when he sees both Iwamoto and Abe doing a small victory dance by the end of his bed.

They start talking as if Miyadate isn’t there, doesn’t exist. And this is strangely the only thing that feels familiar so far. Like it has happened to Miyadate before, in the exact same place, with the exact same audience. It feels surreal.

It’s Abe who first turns to acknowledge Miyadate’s presence. Of course it’s Abe.

“You’ll be fine. Stay awake this time, okay, Ryota? Don't slip away again.” Abe’s voice is friendly and Miyadate finds that it’s nice listening to it.

“Wake up,” Iwamoto adds in and Abe nods. Miyadate has no idea what it is about so he gives them a blank look. He _is_ awake. What does Iwamoto mean by ‘wake up’?

Uneasy silence fills the space between them and Abe starts to look queasy. “You'll feel the kick in no time. Sakuma’s working on it.”

“Abe!” Iwamoto scolds and Abe cowers a little. He turns to regard Miyadate, “it’s just a dream, okay, Ryota?”

It doesn’t sound convincing but Miyadate nods slowly. They feel real. More real than Watanabe Miyadate at any rate and he feels comforted.

“It’s okay. The kick is coming soon. This will be quicker than expected,” Abe tells Iwamoto happily. “Because you don’t like Shota here.” This sentence is directed to Miyadate.

“Abe!” Iwamoto glares. “Did Sakuma teach you to say that?” As Abe is about to answer, Iwamoto shakes his head. “It’s okay. I don’t want to know.” Then he smiles at Miyadate, “Don't worry about what he said.”

But Miyadate can’t not worry when he searches his heart for his feelings for Watanabe and everything is null. He doesn’t want to feel this way. He doesn’t like it. Yet he can’t bring himself to care. It’s not this Watanabe that he loves.

Suddenly, Abe stops moving when he looks at the wall clock. The second hand ticks and Abe looks at Iwamoto. “It’s almost time.”

“Shit. Sakuma’s fast,” Iwamoto curses and Abe beams, proud of his boyfriend. “But he’s conscious!” Iwamoto points a finger to Miyadate, as if blaming him for being awake.

“It’s okay,” Abe says calmly and sits down on one of the chairs, prepared to sleep. “He was awake too in that level Sakuma and I were at.” He smiles lazily at Iwamoto and gestures to the seat next to him. Suddenly realising something, Abe starts again, “Oh but there was a huge piece of debris falling on him.”

By gesturing around wildly, Iwamoto makes his point that there’s no falling debris to knock Miyadate out here. Then he stops and looks at Abe who mirrors his expression. They nod at each other in understanding before Abe says what’s on their mind.

“Punch him.”

“You won't feel anything,” Iwamoto assures him and clenches his hand into a fist, the veins around his wrist protruding scarily and Miyadate gulps.

“No,” Miyadate protests weakly and wants to run away. They both ignore him and Iwamoto goes nearer. Forget about running away. 

As Iwamoto raises his fist, Miyadate shuts his eyes, preparing himself for an impact that he never feels.

 

“Ryota! Ryota!”

Most unwillingly, Miyadate is awaken by the full body weight that lands on his body. He’s locked into place with a knee at both sides of his waist and he groans but his hands come up to stable Watanabe half sitting on his stomach anyway. He ought to be used to this by now since it’s a habit of Watanabe’s. The older man has a tendency to jump on Miyadate’s sleeping form whenever he comes back from a long business trip, regardless of the time or how deeply in sleep Miyadate is.

“Don't you miss meeeee?” Watanabe whines and Miyadate usually finds it cute but it’s probably around 2am and Watanabe just sounds annoying.

“Shota,” Miyadate croaks out, throat too dry from sleep. “It’s two - ”

“Three!” Watanabe interrupts chirpily and Miyadate lets out a pitiful noise. “Don't you miss me?” Watanabe pouts before leaning in and cuddles Miyadate. Miyadate lets him, only because he’s too tired to move. He had been in deep and comfortable sleep for five hours and Watanabe just ruined it. Four more hours of sleep before he has to get up for work too. “I already applied leave for you.”

Trust Watanabe to always be so helpful. Miyadate can’t help but snort. “And they let you? What kind of leave did you apply for?” He slowly shuts his eyes, not intending on listening to what Watanabe is going to say. His husband always has his own ways and Miyadate trusts him.

“Urgent leave,” Watanabe finally says after moments of silent and Miyadate merely hums in response, because what kind of urgent leave could Watanabe have come up with besides Miyadate falling so terribly ill that he needs medical assistance. “I told them I was, may be, pregnant and that you have to come with me to the hospital.”

How clever.

“What?!” Miyadate hollers, sitting up all the way as Watanabe slides off to Miyadate’s side, smiling at him innocently. “You what?!” Miyadate is beyond horrified. “How? Why? They wouldn't have believed that. They know you’re a guy.”

“Oh,” Watanabe says intelligently and beams at Miyadate. It’s too early to be dealing with all this. “I said I was your mistress.”

And Miyadate fails to stop a dying noise from escaping his lips as he pushes his palms against his closed eyes while massaging his temples with his fingers. He wants to die. Or quit. Whichever is easier. Though dying might save him more face and dignity.

“Shota,” he wails pathetically as he turns around and flops onto the bed, burying his face in his pillow.

All Watanabe does is chuckle. The nerve of him. Next, he’s climbing onto Miyadate’s back. How dare he.

Judging from the yelp Watanabe lets out, he probably didn't expect Miyadate to overturn their positions and hover precariously over him.

“It’s Saturday,” Watanabe informs pleasantly in a soft voice, grinning at Miyadate, eyes sparkling as his hair falls in front of his eyes, making him look incredibly young.

“Gosh,” Miyadate whispers as he stares lovingly at Watanabe’s face bathed under the pale moonlight, eyelashes fanned out, lighting up a little from the dim light. “I missed you so much.”

“Yeah?” It isn’t really a question but Miyadate answers anyway.

“Yeah.”

Contented, Watanabe smiles coyly, fluttering his eyelashes, trying to appeal to Miyadate. “Sex.”

“Sleep,” comes Miyadate’s immediate response since he already knew what Watanabe was going to say.

It’s obvious that Watanabe wants to argue, but Miyadate gets off the older man and lies back at his side of the bed before wrapping his arms tight around Watanabe’s waist. “Sleep,” he repeats for emphasis, leaving no room for argument.

“Sleep,” Watanabe repeats and Miyadate feels like he’s finally made it home.

 

“I’m sorry about...when I left,” Watanabe says all of a sudden, murmuring softly against Miyadate’s hand.

They’re watching TV together on their velvet couch, with Miyadate sitting cross-legged, hands on his lap, while Watanabe is lying across the longer side of the L-shape sofa and resting his chin on one of Miyadate’s folded hands.

“I should have called,” Watanabe continues, moving to a sitting up position and going nearer to Miyadate. “Told you that I wasn’t mad anymore. Sorry for slamming the door. That we’re alright.” There’s hesitance in his voice but Miyadate wants to hear what he has to say and cups one side of Watanabe’s face in his hand, encouraging the other to continue. “We’re okay, right?”

“We are,” Miyadate affirms him in a steady voice as he strokes his cheek and Watanabe leans against his palm. “I’m sorry too. For not calling.” Then Miyadate drops his hand from Watanabe’s face and leans in to kiss the latter’s forehead. “Don't worry so much. I don’t even remember what we quarrelled about.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

 

It’s a Friday night and Miyadate has just gotten home from work, one of the rare days he knocks off on time and is home before seven. There’s no Watanabe in sight as he walks through the front door and toes off his shoes and socks, leaving them at the entrance, not bothering with placing them on the shoe rack.

“Shota, I’m home,” he calls out to the seemingly empty house.

There are a few moments of silence as he shrugs off his suit jacket and folds it into half before leaving it on the couch. He unbuttons his cuffs and rolls both his sleeves up to his elbow, one at a time. After which, he reaches for his tie, ready to loosen it when Watanabe trudges out of the room, looking groggy with his hair sticking out at weird places. So he stops and stays where he is, waiting for Watanabe to notice him.

Watanabe is yawning, stretching in a feline manner, shirt riding up slightly, exposing a patch of skin around his navel. He rubs his eyes a few times before his vision is cleared. He notices Miyadate standing a few metres away from him. Taking in what he’s currently dressed in - a fitting t-shirt and a pair of boxers, Watanabe suddenly feels self-conscious. Especially when he knows that Miyadate is looking at his legs.

Quickly, Watanabe walks over to the couch and picks up a cushion, flinging it very unceremoniously at Miyadate, inciting a chuckle from the latter as he easily catches the flying object. “Quit staring, you asshole. Haven’t you seen enough since high school?”

Just as Miyadate puts the cushion aside, another one comes flying his way the same time he breaks out into laughter and he isn’t prepared for this one. The cushion lands flat on his face and when it drops to the ground, Miyadate sees Watanabe’s retreating figure into the room.

After putting the fallen cushion back onto the couch, Miyadate follows Watanabe back into the room.

Watanabe’s sitting on the bed, pillows propped behind him and he leans against them, looking comfortable and ready to slip back into sleep any time. The comforter thrown over the lower half of his body is crumpled and messy, lying haphazardly over his legs and the rest of the bed. 

“I’m home?” Miyadate announces, smile slipping onto his face when he sees Watanabe scrunching up his nose.

“I can see,” Watanabe says dryly before pouting. “I was napping.”

“I can see that too,” Miyadate responds, matching Watanabe’s previous tone, chuckling when the latter pouts even more and walks over to kiss the pout off his face. “Help me with this?” He says, pointing towards his tie.

And Watanabe snorts. “You can do that yourself.” That’s what he says but his hands are already reaching for Miyadate’s tie and loosening it. “At least you’re not asking me to tie it.” With nimble fingers, Watanabe pulls the tie free completely quickly and pulls it off Miyadate before throwing it aside, not caring where he’s throwing it to or where it lands.

“It’s a life skill. You should learn it some day,” Miyadate advises, like he always does when they’re on the topic of ties. Naturally, he’s expecting Watanabe’s usual response but it isn’t what he hears. The usual phrase from Watanabe isn’t what comes his way. Instead, Watanabe hums noncommittally and grins at Miyadate.

A strange feeling starts to grow inside Miyadate and he tries pushing it away and locking it up. It’s not something he wants to bother himself with.

“Your buttons.” Watanabe points at Miyadate’s shirt. Without Miyadate saying anything, Watanabe’s already unbuttoning the first two buttons and straightening Miyadate’s collar for him. But he isn’t looking Miyadate in the eye; something he usually does whenever he helps Miyadate undress and Miyadate gets that queasiness in his stomach again. “Done,” Watanabe says when he’s done righting the blouse and making Miyadate look neater and more casually presentable.

When Miyadate catches Watanabe’s chin. It takes the other by surprise and their eyes meet for a brief second, and something akin to weariness in Watanabe’s eye shines, before it breaks and Miyadate’s heart thumps loudly in his chest.

“I thought I saw something on your face,” Miyadate lies quickly, removing his hands and he notices that Watanabe is pressing his lips into a thin line.

Uncomfortable silence fills the space around them and Miyadate’s palms start to feel sweaty. Maybe it’s just him because Watanabe looks very much like the picture of calmness. There’s something Miyadate wants to say, words hanging on the tip of his tongue although his mind isn’t even sure what he wants to say. Anything to break this 

Thankfully, or not, Watanabe beats him to it. “Let’s go drinking? There’s a nice pub that opened recently near our place.”

The suggestion surprises Miyadate because they haven’t gone drinking together in a long while due to both their busy, and mostly Watanabe’s eccentric, work schedules. They haven’t been able to find a proper time to go out together, to go on dates, ever since Watanabe has come back from the US. Also, because Miyadate doesn’t about any new establishments opening near their apartment.

“I went there with one of my teams to celebrate the completion of a job recently,” Watanabe explains, as if reading Miyadate’s mind. “Like, just this Tuesday. So don’t look so surprised.” 

“Alright, let’s go then.”

Flinging the covers off, Watanabe gets off the bed and strides over to their shared wardrobe, rummaging for a pair of clean black pants. Miyadate goes over to stand next to Watanabe and picks a navy blue t-shirt, pulling it off the hanger before throwing it on the bed. 

While waiting for Watanabe to pick out a pair of black pants, Miyadate walks over to the full-length mirror that is situated next to their wardrobe to check himself out. The bags under his eyes have gotten heavier and his cheeks look sunken. His face certainly shows how much work has taken a toll on him. He’s getting busier and while it isn’t his choice, it isn’t like he resented his workload either. This just meant that he’s going to get a promotion soon and that his bosses think highly of him, giving him a chance to showcase his skills.

On the other hand, his work as an extractor has been neglected a ton. His job offers have become less than ever since Watanabe came home. It isn’t his husband’s fault of course. If there is anyone to blame for his lack of jobs in the dream industry, it’s himself.

As an investor, he’s as successful as anyone could wish to be. Though there is always still room for improvement. As a dreamer, he’s a complete failure. Rejecting job offers left and right hadn’t done his credibility well no matter how skillful he is. The more job offers he rejects, the less they come, until there aren’t any more.

The first few times he had done this, Watanabe had warned him, told him not to be so proud and to keep his attitude in check. He had told Miyadate that these people aren’t friendly, that people in the dream sharing society generally aren’t friendly, especially towards those who worked part-time, like Miyadate. Of course Watanabe would know better. Being an architect is Watanabe’s main and only job after all. It’s also his dream job. Watanabe would know best and Miyadate should have swallowed his pride and taken Watanabe’s advice.

It seems too late to do anything about it now. So Miyadate’s has decided to strive in his main job as an investor. The pay is good, though not as much as Watanabe’s, but that’s because Watanabe is an established architect and the job offers he receives aren’t easy to complete.

 _“What ever happened to the dreamer in you?”_ These words hunt Miyadate. They replay in his mind over and over again but he isn’t sure who said it to him, or if anyone had said it to him at all. Strangely, whenever he hears this phrase, it’s being said in Watanabe’s voice but Miyadate has no recollection of Watanabe having ever said that to him. Why would Watanabe say such a thing to him anyway? It doesn’t make sense and there is no reason for Watanabe to.

Although there’s still a strange suspicion that lingers in the back of Miyadate’s head that it was Watanabe who said this to him.

The sound of the toilet door opening snaps Miyadate out of a trance he didn’t realise he was caught in. Looking at the open door, he sees Watanabe gargling mouthwash and truthfully, he looks a bit ridiculous but Miyadate still finds him adorable.

Belatedly, he realises that Watanabe has picked a pair of skinny jeans to wear, accentuating his long legs. The only thing that looks a bit out of place is his hair that hasn’t been combed or gelled and his t-shirt, his sleepwear. But he looks good like this. However, Miyadate’s pretty sure that Watanabe wouldn’t want to go out, let alone hit a pub, in his sleepwear. So the navy blue shirt that Miyadate has chosen is perfect.

In one swift motion, Watanabe tugs his shirt over his head, exposing his body to the cold air, shivering slightly as his skin comes into contact with the coolness of the room. He pads over to the bed, ignoring Miyadate and throws on the shirt his husband picked out before going back to the toilet and arranging his fluffy hair, putting stray strands back into place.

Miyadate watches Watanabe with an irrational, unsettling feeling in his stomach. He pushes that thought away when Watanabe walks out the bathroom looking as handsome and ever and asks him if he’s ready with bright eyes.

The bar is crowded, as expected on a Friday night, but they manage to get seats at a high round table. They order their drinks and sip them quietly, neither one initiating a conversation.

Some stranger walks over and asks Watanabe for a dance which Miyadate helps to reject unkindly. Watanabe laughs when the stranger walks away and plays with Miyadate’s pinky.

“Why’re you so quiet,” Watanabe slurs, sounding a bit drunk already. He’s never been a good drinker. The natural red blush spreading across his face shows more signs of his tipsiness and Miyadate has to pull the glass out of his husband's hand to stop him from drinking so quickly.

“You’re quiet yourself,” Miyadate points out, sounding way more sober.

From there, they fall into a comfortable conversation that mostly revolves around Miyadate’s work. Once or twice, Miyadate tries to direct the conversation to Watanabe, asks him about the job he had in the stares but somehow Watanabe always manages to divert the topic quickly and smoothly.

While Miyadate is curious, he doesn’t want to pry. If Watanabe’s keeping the details of his job a secret then so be it. His husband must have his reasons for doing so.

Straining his memory, Miyadate tries to recall if Watanabe has told him anything about the job. The duration? The scope? Nothing comes to mind and Miyadate downs two shots in a row to fog up his mind, not wanting to think anymore.

A song that Watanabe likes comes on and he smiles around the rim of his glass before downing the shot.

“Let's dance,” Watanabe says and pulls Miyadate out of his chair.

It’s a slow song and the singer’s voice is low, the bass a pleasant sound in the background. Watanabe rests his head against Miyadate’s who loops his arms around Watanabe’s waist and they dance slowly to the beat.

Nearing the second chorus, Watanabe looks up. His hair falls into his eyes as he bites his lips shyly and looks at Miyadate from beneath his lashes. But he shifts his gaze to Miyadate’s nose as soon as the latter’s eyes reaches his.

There’s a twinkle in Watanabe’s eye but it looks kind of dull and Miyadate wants to know why. He wants to look into Watanabe’s eyes. Wants to see his soul. But their eyes don’t meet for the rest of the dance or the night.

 

This is his Watanabe, Miyadate thinks as he strokes his husband’s cheeks lovingly, staring into his eyes like he means the world. But that eye contact breaks the next second as Watanabe’s averts his gaze downwards, a faint blush tinting his cheeks.

“I love you,” Miyadate mutters and Watanabe looks back up again.

“I love you too.”

While it looks like Watanabe is gazing back into his eyes, he can’t help but feel that their eyes are not quite meeting. As if Watanabe is fixing his gaze on Miyadate’s nose instead. Miyadate should know better. After all, he’s the one looking straight into Watanabe’s eyes.

People say the eyes are the windows to the soul and Miyadate’s bearing it for Watanabe to see. Maybe he’s just shy, Miyadate concludes from the blush still staining Watanabe’s skin when the latter shifts his gaze elsewhere again.

 

“Ryota!” Sakuma stops Miyadate before his apartment building. “Care for a cup of coffee?”

“Not reall - ” Miyadate is cut off as Sakuma whines _let’s go_ and drags Miyadate away from the apartment complex, ignoring everything he says. Sakuma can be very persuasive, be it through talking or physical means, at times.

“Don't you think there’s something different about Shota?” Sakuma starts as soon as they’re seated, not bothering with any drinks but he actively looks for Fukazawa and nods in his friend’s direction upon noticing his presence.

Ignoring him, Miyadate orders two cups of cappuccino and sends Sakuma a dirty look. “I don’t get what you mean.”

“Like…” Sakuma trails off. “He isn’t the real Shota?”

Pursing his lips in concentration, Miyadate frowns as he begins. “There’s something weird. He always avoids my eyes. He never looks into them for some reason.” Miyadate stays silent, hoping Sakuma would fill in for the lack of conversation say something but his smaller friend doesn’t. He deliberates continuing because he feels that there’s something wrong, something off about _this_ Sakuma and he wants the other to say something to prove his theory right. But Sakuma remains silent, looking at him expectantly and eagerly, waiting for him to go on talking. So he continues, “he always avoids talking about his job in the US.” Sakuma is nodding his head in understanding but the action looks mechanical like it’s orchestrated for some purpose and Miyadate feels a little wary to continue this time. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s just shy. I think he’s just shy.”

“Shota? Shy?” Sakuma deadpans as Miyadate nods slowly, uncertainly. “Have you ever thought that he doesn’t look into your eyes because he’s keeping something from you? Because he’s lying from you? Because he doesn’t want you to know something?”

“Sakuma wai - ”

“Because he doesn’t know what he’s actually feeling as well?”

“Sakuma stop.”

“Because he has nothing to say to you?”

“Stop. I don’t under - ”

“Because he’s just your projection, Miyadate Ryota, and you don’t know how Shota truly feels anymore and you don’t know what went on in the states that's why your damned projection can’t tell you anything about the job. Because _you_ don’t know anything Ryota. And this Shota? Being your projection, he doesn’t know anything either. Period.”

All other activity around them ceases immediately and everyone in the cafe turns to look at them, including Fukazawa.

Sakuma laughs brightly, wondering what possessed him to say all that just now and gives Miyadate a sweet smile. “We can talk about this.”

“Get out of my mind,” Miyadate says weakly and his projections gather around their table. Fukazawa’s at the far left and Sakuma looks in that direction, aiming to make a run there.

Fukazawa’s looking at him, eyes conveying a message that Sakuma cannot comprehend. He looks around and notices for the first time since entering that this isn’t the cafe Miyadate likes. It’s a random, probably non-existent cafe and Sakuma recalls what Abe says.

_“When Ryota meets one of us, he'll usually bring us to his favourite cafe. We all know which one it is even if Fukka’s never been there in a dream before.” He turns to Fukazawa who nods. “Okay good. So we all know which place it is. When I was down there with Sakuma for the first time, I installed a device there which can knock us back into reality. It’s ingrained in the architect of that deepest layer - I made it that way - so it should still exist in this layer. In case his projections start to attack any one of us for some reason, make for the counter of the cafe. Press any button on the cash register and you should be kicked back to reality.”_

_Sakuma stares at Abe in awe and gives him a thumbs up. “Will do, Abe-chan!”_

“We can talk about this,” Sakuma repeats and Miyadate’s eyes soften. His projections back away a little.

Once Sakuma sees an opening, he makes a dash for it and the projections start to chase after him. Darting around as fast as his legs can take him, Sakuma frantically looks for Miyadate’s favourite cafe. _‘Please don’t tell me he didn't construct it in this layer’_ , Sakuma thinks as he shoves two projections out of his way. _‘The numbers are growing’_. He takes a swift look behind and sees the projections coming at him in waves. Just as he’s about to turn his head back to the front, he catches a glimpse of Fukazawa and feels better.

Turning a corner on the road, he sees the cafe and dashes straight for the entrance, dodging and punching projections getting in his way when necessary. The projections in the cafe won't be easy to deal with but somehow Sakuma manages, slipping away and manoeuvring through the angry projections out to kill him and pushes a button on the cash register once he’s behind the counter.

 

 

Sakuma wakes up and smiles sheepishly at Abe and Iwamoto looking at him in shock. “I couldn't hold on. His projections were gonna kill me.”

“It’s okay,” Abe comforts him and walks over, pulling him into a hug before helping him disconnect from the PASIV machine.

The three look at Fukazawa’s sleeping form then at Miyadate’s and Iwamoto groans, frustrated. “Can’t we just disconnect Ryota?”

“No!” Abe yells. “We’re supposed to help him get over his projections of Shota. He isn’t supposed to have any attachments to them.”

“Abe-chan…” Sakuma calls softly as he places his hand on Abe’s arm in hopes he'll cool down. “Don't get angry at Hikaru. This is a difficult level. Ryota thinks it’s reality and he’s in love with this Shota. But he’s also confused.”

Hearing Sakuma’s voice, Abe calms down and mutters a quick apology to Iwamoto who shakes his head. Then he looks at Miyadate’s sleeping form and sighs. “Hurry wake up, Ryota.”

With only Fukazawa left in the dream layer, things are going to be difficult.

“Shota’s always with him in this layer. It’s difficult to get him alone. Otherwise, he’s in the house and won't open the door for anyone, not even Fukka. So me and Fukka concluded that we both talk to Ryota. I obviously failed so it’s up to Fukka now.”

“Or not,” Iwamoto says, eyes trained on Fukazawa’s phone screen. “Shota just landed,” Iwamoto informs, showing them the message sent to Fukazawa’s phone from Watanabe and Abe groans outwardly while Sakuma sighs. “Disconnect Fukka, we need to go.”

“But he hasn't talked to Ryota!” Sakuma protests.

“Disconnect Fukka,” Iwamoto repeats calmly.

“But - ” Sakuma stops short when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Turning around, he comes face to face with Abe who nods at him reassuringly. “Fine.”

Going over to Fukazawa’s side, Abe’s hands pause at the wire as he turns to look at Iwamoto. “You know forcefully disconnecting Fukka like that will leave him in a coma for at least a few hours right?”

“Do I look incapable of taking care of my boyfriend?” Iwamoto snaps and Abe nods, severing the connection from the PASIV machine immediately.

They’re all tired, having spent almost half a day in Miyadate’s shared room with Watanabe and deciding on a plot to wake him up from each layer. It wasn’t easy and the effort is taking a toll on their bodies.

Dreaming for a job is one thing, forcibly making yourself dream to chase down a friend stuck five layers deep is another thing - something none of them had done before. The last time Miyadate had connected himself to the PASIV machine, he had only gone two layers deep and it had been a much easier task to bring him back to reality.

Though there had been repercussions which they hadn't been able to foresee. So this time, they had wanted to make it right. Make sure Miyadate wakes up completely. But they didn't have any more time.

“We can only hope that he wakes up on his own before Shota comes back or if Shota wakes him up,” Iwamoto says and they nod their heads in agreement.

“Shota will. We don’t have to worry,” Sakuma supplies, to which they all agree to as well.

 

 

When Miyadate goes back to his house, he acts as if nothing has happened. He didn’t meet Sakuma. The conversation at the cafe didn’t happen. He didn’t hear anything.

“What took you so long?” Watanabe asks, coming out from their bedroom. It’s as if Watanabe’s forcing him to remember. Walking over to Miyadate, he stops before him and stares at him for a moment. “What’s wrong?”

“Tell me you love me,” Miyadate splutters out without any thought and curses inwardly for sounding so desperate.

“I love you,” Watanabe says easily, but avoiding eye contact and something in Miyadate’s stomach turns.

As he opens his mouth to say something, Watanabe crashes their lips together and pulls him towards the bedroom without breaking the kiss. The second hand is ticking and the sound rings in Miyadate’s ears, growing louder with each movement of the needle and Miyadate doesn’t know why he’s able to hear it so clearly.

Suddenly, he’s very aware of Watanabe’s mouth on his neck, and his hands finding their way under his shirt. And then he snaps out of it, pushing Watanabe off and looking at his husband. He doesn’t hear Watanabe asking him what’s wrong. This time, he’s the one initiating the kiss, with a newfound sense of urgency.

They’re kissing roughly, mouths clashing and teeth catching. Watanabe’s being the more aggressive one, but Miyadate is kissing back fervently like it’s the last time. At the back of his mind, he worries this might just be an illusion. And that this illusion is going to disappear soon, like bubbles rising to the surface of the ocean, disintegrating into foam. All Miyadate wants to do is hold on to that bubble tightly and never let go.

“Say you’ll remember me,” Watanabe breathes as he tangles his fingers in Miyadate’s hair, pulling the other in for another kiss, leaving Miyadate dazed and perplexed as to what Watanabe means.

 

 

“Ryota~”

The weight on Miyadate feels unusually familiar. But he also feels like he’s been through this before. His body clock tells him it’s too early to be awake and he shouldn't bother trying to wake up either.

“Wake up,” Watanabe presses on a lilting voice, laughing when Miyadate puts a hand on his waist to pull him down onto the empty side of the bed. “Don't you miss me?”

“Mm,” Miyadate tries very hard to say something and goes for, “I do.”

Silence settles comfortably in the room until Watanabe disrupts it. “Ryota, wake up. It’s almost noon.”

“What time is it?” Miyadate asks groggily, not wanting to open his eyes.

“Almost noon,” Watanabe repeats insistently. “It’s like eleven plus. I landed around nine and then I rushed straight back.” Brief silence fills the space between them before Watanabe lets out a huff. “Okay, I tried to rush straight back but I couldn’t because I was waiting for you. I told you to pick me up but maybe you didn’t see the message…” Miyadate feels more than sees the pout on Watanabe’s lips. “And you’re still sleeping.” It sounds like a grumble, like Watanabe’s blaming Miyadate but the latter can’t stop the smile from forming on his face.

Miyadate hums lazily and pulls Watanabe closer to him, relishing in the body heat radiating off from the older man. Out of habit, Miyadate’s right hand covers his left as he pushes at his wedding ring. He stills upon touching the cool metal and doesn’t really register Watanabe’s worry-laced voice asking him ‘what’s wrong’.

It’s hard. His wedding ring is hard. It isn’t getting moulded under his finger. He can’t break the ring into half and tear it off his finger. And that can only mean one thing.

As if he were burnt by a boiling kettle, Miyadate swiftly removes his hands from Watanabe’s waist and backs off the bed. Then as quickly as he has scrambled off the bed, Watanabe is following after him. But every time Watanabe takes one step forward closer to him, Miyadate takes two steps back like Watanabe was diseased.

“You’re not…” Miyadate mutters as he takes another step away from his husband. “You’re not - he’s not - ” he sniffs, moving further away until his back touches the wall and there’s no more place for him to escape and hide. “He’s not here. You’re not- you’re not...you’re not my Shota,” Miyadate chokes out, causing Watanabe’s eyes to widen in confusion.

“What are you saying?” Watanabe asks, sounding broken and it kills Miyadate to see him like that but he can’t control the words spilling from his mouth.

“I said you’re not my Shota,” Miyadate says flatly as he steals a glance to the PASIV.

In the next second, Watanabe is approaching Miyadate and he startles when Watanabe angrily grabs his wrists.

“I’m your Shota!” Watanabe screams, furious tears rushing down his face. “If I’m not your Shota then who else can I be?!”

“But you’re not…” Miyadate sniffs, clenching his hands into a fist. “You’re not - ”

“I am Shota!” Watanabe sobs out miserably, tightening his grip on Miyadate’s wrist. “Ryota, look at me!”

When Miyadate doesn’t say anything, only sniffling and hiccupping softly, Watanabe lets go of his wrists resignedly. Once Watanabe’s hands leave, Miyadate’s right hand flies over to his left finger where his wedding ring is in place and pulls it off. Pinching it once, twice but it doesn’t turn soft and doesn’t bend to his will. It isn’t getting squashed or folded in Miyadate’s hand and he tries wrapping his head around the fact that this is reality.

“What are you talking about? What’s wrong?” Watanabe can’t stop asking questions, his head going wild with different possibilities as to why Miyadate’s acting like this. “Ryota, please. Look at me. Tell me what’s wrong. What do you mean I’m not Shota? I’m not your Shota?” He lets out a distressed noise as he approaches Miyadate who attempts to take another step back but is stopped by the wall. “What’s wrong?”

Tears are welling in Watanabe’s eyes and Miyadate knows that the other is blinking furiously to prevent those tears from spilling freely. He feels a little guilty seeing his husband like this. He wants to reach out and pull Watanabe into a hug, tell him sorry, tell him he loves him and that's everything is alright. But he can’t. His feet are frozen to the ground and he wants to stay away from Watanabe.

‘I’m sorry’, is what Miyadate wants to say. “Please leave,” he says, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

“I don’t know what I did to you, Ryota,” Watanabe starts. “But I just want you to come back to me.” Then he’s walking out, closing the door gently behind him, stabbing Miyadate further in the chest.

It isn’t Watanabe’s fault. This isn’t his problem.

 

Weeks after the incident is the next time they talk again.

Upon being chased out, Watanabe went to stay with Fukazawa in spite of Iwamoto’s weak protests. Meanwhile, Miyadate has stayed in their apartment, feeling lonelier than ever. Without Watanabe’s bright smile and cheery voice, without the mischievous glint in his eyes and the sarcastic remarks, the dolphin-like laughter and the mop of untamed hair, Miyadate’s life became darker, like there was a permanent raincloud above him. Being alone helps him think though, about why he’s reacting like this and about what has to be done.

First, they have to face each other and sort out their difference. Mostly, it’s really Miyadate’s problem and Watanabe’s probably just clueless about the whole situation. Although Miyadate is quite certain that Watanabe would have learnt a thing or two about what’s going on while staying with Fukazawa.

His ever-helpful best friend Fukazawa would be filling him in on details. Even Iwamoto might be briefing him on some things. Even though they promised Miyadate not to tell Watanabe anything, it’s impossible not to given how Miyadate reacted to Watanabe weeks ago upon realising that he’s now back in reality.

At the sound of the door opening, Miyadate clears his mind and focuses on the front door. Nervousness pools in his stomach and he reprimands himself internally. It’s just Watanabe, it’s just his husband, he doesn’t have to feel this way. In fact, he shouldn’t be feeling this way at all.

Trying his best to keep his cool, Miyadate stretches his arm over the length of the couch and attempts to present a picture of tranquillity. Watanabe opens the door and stares at Miyadate’s sitting position, clearly not buying anything Miyadate’s trying to present.

“We need help,” Watanabe states clearly and he takes a seat opposite Miyadate on the floor. The only thing separating them is the glass table where Miyadate’s car keys lie.

Everything Miyadate has prepared to say flies out the window as he wraps his head around what Watanabe has just said. He wanted to say something similar but Watanabe was definitely much more direct about it.

“I want to make this work and I hope you want to keep this relationship as much as I do.” The sigh that escapes Watanabe’s lips is unintentional because his eyes widen the moment he hears himself sighing. Then he runs a finger through his hair and sighs again before looking into Miyadate’s eyes.

Sadness fill Watanabe’s dark orbs and Miyadate feels the guilt manifesting in every fibre of his being.

Taking in a deep breath, Watanabe starts talking again since it doesn’t seem like Miyadate’s about to say anything. “I want this, us, to work because I love you. So much. Can you feel it?” It looks like Watanabe is restraining every urge in his body from going over to Miyadate and kissing the latter senseless.

Of course Miyadate can feel it. He just doesn’t dare to admit it out loud, afraid that this is all a lie and it’ll crumble as soon as he believes Watanabe’s words. But he allows himself a small doubt that nothing is going to go wrong now that Watanabe is back. They can work things out.

Allowing himself some hope, Miyadate places his hand on the glass table and Watanabe follows suit without really knowing why. As soon as Watanabe has settled his hands down on the flat surface, Miyadate reaches forward and takes one of Watanabe’s hands into his own, lacing their fingers together, sealing an unspoken promise.

Watanabe offers him a small smile, grateful that Miyadate wants to make things work as well. In the end, Miyadate doesn’t have to say anything at all for Watanabe to understand that he wants to keep this relationship too. That he loves Watanabe too.

 

The whole thing turns out to be more complicated than they both expected. With the help of some friends, they managed to make an appointment with a renowned psychiatrist who specially deals with mentally unwell dreamers. Miyadate was against it at first because he doesn’t think that he’s mentally unstable, nor does he consider himself a dreamer.

It takes Watanabe all of five minutes to convince Miyadate to go through with this plan. Since their problem mainly resulted from Miyadate’s dreams and Watanabe’s good at guilt-tripping.

Even though he had agreed, Miyadate has been proving himself to be a stubborn patient for the past half an hour.

“I can’t say it.” Miyadate presses his lips into a thin line, resolutely refusing to tell Watanabe or the psychiatrist anything about his dreams.

“Miyadate-san, we’re here to help you,” Totsuka says kindly as he rests his hand on Miyadate’s shoulder. “If you don’t say anything, we can’t help you.”

There’s nothing but absolute truth in Totsuka’s words but Miyadate doesn’t want to admit that or expose anything about his dreams. Miyadate stares at Totsuka with an obstinate gaze, lips sealed in a firm line.

It takes another two hours before Miyadate finally says something. Watanabe had to be adamant about the session continuing (even if it might take the whole day) despite Totsuka’s reluctance, because if they stopped, it would take forever before Miyadate would come close to saying anything again, leaving them with nothing to work with.

“I dream about you! I dream about you, okay, Shota? All of my dreams are about you!” Miyadate shouts in frustration, letting it all out, and his eyes widen upon realising what he has just admitted aloud and he stands up abruptly, staring at Watanabe and Totsuka in confusion before backing away quickly. “I’m sorry,” he starts before he continues muttering the apology repeatedly. He jumps in surprise when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

Flinching away on reflex, he slides down the wall and curls up. From his peripheral vision, he sees Totsuka backing away and Watanabe standing up, approaching him slowly.

“Don't,” Miyadate shouts and Watanabe takes a step back. “Don't come near me,” he sobs out brokenly and his breath hitches when he sees Watanabe taking another step closer. “I’m…” he doesn’t know what he is. “Stay away.”

With his view obscured by placing his head against his knees that were pulled up against his chest, Miyadate doesn’t see Watanabe approaching and flinches away when Watanabe touches his hand.

“You’re not anything bad,” Watanabe starts, sounding so kind it makes Miyadate’s heart swell. “You’re my husband.”

Confusion clouding his mind, it takes a while for Miyadate to register that Watanabe’s hand is on his shoulder and that his husband is looking at him with warm eyes. He swallows and tries to calm down as he is guided back to the seat.

“You must be disgusted with me,” Miyadate muses aloud, staring at Watanabe.

“No, I’m not,” Watanabe replies easily, eyebrows knitted in concern. “Is there something I should be disgusted with?”

“Me.”

“No.”

“But I dream about you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Terrible dreams about you.” Not exactly but Miyadate always feels guilty when he thinks about the Watanabe he frightened in that one layer.

“I don’t care,” Watanabe insists stubbornly.

“I dream about you.” This time, Miyadate stresses his words, as if that would change Watanabe’s stance.

This scene feels oddly familiar, like he had an exchange like this with Watanabe before. Maybe one of his projections. Searching his mind, he quickly finds an answer. It’s the same Watanabe who was scared of him that shares this obstinate trait of the real Watanabe.

Thinking about it, his projections really all do seem to behave like the real Watanabe in one way or another. But of course they do. After all, his projections of Watanabe are based on the real person. Miyadate’s projections are all moulded from his lack of confidence, security and doubt that forced him to seek solace in his own creations. He is disgusting.

“So? I have wet dreams about you all the time.” Watanabe quarrels back, face passive while Miyadate flushes scarlet.

“Watanabe-san!” Totsuka shrieks, obviously unprepared for Watanabe to say such stuff.

“They’re all dreams right?” Watanabe argues, relentless as ever.

Miyadate purses his lips. “It’s not the same, Shota.”

“Then tell me,” Watanabe presses.

“Shouldn't you know better?” Miyadate finds himself snapping but Watanabe doesn’t budge, undeterred by Miyadate’s increasing fury. “Aren't you the dreamer?”

“I think we should end here,” Totsuka’s smooth voice interrupts and Watanabe nods, already standing up to make his leave.

Not forgetting his manners, Miyadate thanks the psychiatrist who sends a pleasant smile his way. Watanabe’s already out the door by the time Miyadate stands.

Leaving the room, Miyadate sees Watanabe a few steps away from the door before he hastens his steps. It’s obvious that Watanabe is waiting for him. Both of them aren't in their best of moods, and Miyadate doesn’t want to talk as well, so he trails behind from a small distance.

When they reach the car, he’s expecting Watanabe to demand for the car keys and drive off on his own, leaving Miyadate to his own devices. But Watanabe doesn’t do that. Instead, he wrenches open the passenger door and slides in, folding his arms across his chest after fastening his seat belt. Acting just like a little kid.

Unable to help himself, Miyadate smiles but he stops as soon as he gets into the car and feels Watanabe emitting an ominous aura.

The car ride back home is silent. Miyadate turned off the radio when a song he knows that Watanabe doesn’t like came one. Conversation isn’t an option.

They’re both in the living room when Miyadate finally gathers enough courage to lay a hand on Watanabe’s shoulder only for it to be shrugged off immediately. Before he can say anything, Watanabe’s already turning around and pounding him in the chest angrily.

Without any warning, Miyadate grips both of Watanabe’s wrists, ceasing his actions and the latter shoots him a glare, struggling in his hold. A few minutes later, he gives up completely, shoulder slumping visibly in defeat. When Miyadate is certain that Watanabe isn’t going to start hitting him again, he releases Watanabe’s hands.

All Watanabe does is brace his palms flat against Miyadate’s chest and breathes slowly. Miyadate can see Watanabe’s internal conflict of deciding whether to push him away or grabbing into a rough kiss. Either way, none of that happens and Watanabe simply leaves his hands there.

“I missed you so much and I come back to this.” Watanabe’s voice is heavy with bitterness and resentment. “I was waiting for you at the airport.” A small whine slips from Watanabe’s throat and he looks like he’s about to cry anytime. “I waited for so long and you were just sleeping. You didn't even reply your message.”

 _‘What message?’_ , Miyadate manages to stop himself from asking in time, not wanting to create more unnecessary problems. They already have enough at hand.

“Some days, I wanted to dump my work I just to fly back just to see you, you know? Skyping and video phone calls aren't the same. Neither is texting or emailing. I wanted to touch your face. I wanted to hold your hands. I wanted to kiss you. But I’m not irresponsible - you know that. So I clenched my teeth and finished the job in hopes that it could somehow be completed faster so that I could come home to you. No such luck of course. But I came home eventually. I just didn't expect to come home to you claiming that I’m not your Shota or whatever, you bastard.”

It’s an all out rant and Watanabe has started punching Miyadate in the chest again. This time Miyadate isn’t so gentle in handling Watanabe. He grabs Watanabe’s wrists roughly as he growls out a low _enough_.

Lips curving into a cruel smile, Watanabe fights back and gains temporary freedom when he viciously steps on Miyadate’s toes. When Miyadate makes to grab Watanabe’s hands again, the latter is already winding his arms around his neck and fisting the back of Miyadate’s shirt to pull him in for a messy kiss.

Although taken by surprise, Miyadate responds naturally by kissing back fiercely when he feels Watanabe’s lips collide with his own.

They break apart at the same time, panting as they look into each other's eyes. Miyadate’s searching for a sign, any sign that tells him that Watanabe hates him and wants him to leave. He doesn’t find anything and he hugs the other.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear your apologies. I want to hear you say you love me.”

 _‘I love you’_ , Miyadate’s heart screams. But his heart is so constricted that it doesn’t want to let the words out. So he leans back, caresses Watanabe’s cheek and kisses his husband softly, slowly and gently this time. If words can’t be conveyed then let his actions do the talking. All he can hope is that Watanabe understands.

Evidently, his message gets across because Watanabe is kissing back with an eager sweetness that was previously absent.

“Love you,” Watanabe murmurs in between kisses.

 

 

“Ryota?” Watanabe looks puzzled, stopping in his tracks as he stares at his husband standing at their doorstep. “Why aren't you going in?”

“Shota?” Miyadate breathes out and Watanabe nods his head wearily.

When Miyadate doesn’t say anything more, Watanabe sighs and walks over, opening the door and pulling Miyadate in, seating him on the couch. Instantly, Miyadate lowers his head and stares at his feet. 

“What’s wrong, hm?” Watanabe asks as he cups Miyadate’s face and brings it up to look at his face.

Their eyes meet briefly and Miyadate almost sees something in Watanabe’s eyes but the latter looks away shyly and Miyadate’s breathing speeds up, turning a little erratic.

“Shota,” Miyadate chokes out and covers his hands over Watanabe’s before removing them from his face and gripping onto them tightly. “Shota. Shota. You’re my Shota.”

“Of course I’m your Shota.” Watanabe’s eyes soften. “Who else can I be?”

“Shota,” Miyadate repeats his husband’s name like it’s his lifeline and he has to cling onto it.

Fatigue rushes over him and he starts to feel dizzy. Next to him, Watanabe is looking at him with a worried expression. He seems to have noticed Miyadate’s oncoming headache and shifts a bit so there’s space for Miyadate to lie on his lap.

Stroking Miyadate’s hair in a slow and comforting manner, Watanabe says softly, “You’ll be okay.”

Under Watanabe’s methodical hands, Miyadate feels sleep blurring his vision and clouding his mind.

 

 

There’s complete darkness when Miyadate opens his eyes. The first thing he sees when he gains his vision back is Watanabe’s still back. Before he can ask _what’s wrong_ or wrap his arms around Watanabe’s waist, the latter starts talking, making his blood run cold.

“Ryota, why do you keep dreaming when I’m around?” Watanabe asks, voice cutting through the dead silence in the room like a knife. “Am I not as good as any of your projections? What is it that you want from me?”

The accusation stills Miyadate’s breathing as he stares at Watanabe, realisation hitting him hard. It isn’t the first time this has happened. But it’s the first time Watanabe’s letting Miyadate know that he knows whenever the latter is dreaming.

“I’m sorry.” Miyadate’s knees feel weak and his legs turn jelly. Giving in to that sensation, he slumps down against the wall and hugs his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Just tell me,” Watanabe chokes out, the only sign that he’s been crying.

“Sorry,” Miyadate says, his voice coming out as barely a whisper and he reaches for Watanabe’s trembling shoulder. “Come here.” 

He taps Watanabe’s shoulder once and waits. For a few moments, Watanabe remains unmoving but then he relents and leans back slowly until he’s lying in Miyadate’s arms, back to his chest. It doesn’t take long for all the tension to leave Watanabe’s body as he settles in place comfortably.

“He’s the closest I've ever created to you. The real you. The you now.” Miyadate starts. “None of my projections have been so similar to the you now. The old you…” his mind drifts to a young Watanabe and he’s momentarily distracted. “But this one...this one is different.” 

“You need to let him go,” Watanabe decides for him immediately.

“I’ll let him go but I’ll remember every part of him.”

“You only want to remember because he told you to right? Because your subconscious thought you wanted to. Let me tell you what I think,” Watanabe pauses as he shifts closer to Miyadate. “I think you don’t want to remember him at all because I’m here.”

It’s the first time Miyadate has revealed so much and he thinks he’s ready to visit Totsuka again. Tell them everything. Watanabe has that kind of effect of people - that calming effect that made people trust him, perhaps too easily, but he makes Miyadate feel safe.

And for the first time in what feels like months, Miyadate lets go and forgets.

 

The next session with Totsuka wraps up well and Miyadate reveals everything he has dreamt about. It has taken him this long because a part of him was ashamed. He was afraid of Watanabe judging him and hating him. For some reason, he was just so sure that Watanabe would find him a sick perverted bastard for dreaming about a high school boy.

But Watanabe didn’t react that way. He merely listened to Miyadate’s story, nodding his head at times to show that he’s listening but his face remained neutral otherwise.

Maybe he’ll bring it up when they’re back home. That’s what Miyadate thinks, so he prepares himself for it, for the last dream layer to become reality and readies himself for Watanabe to suggest a divorce.

None of that happens.

“I don’t know why you'd dream about me in high school though,” Watanabe wonders aloud. “I thought I was pretty fucked up in high school.”

Upon hearing Watanabe’s words, Miyadate finds himself at a loss for words. What in the world is Watanabe saying? He feels a pair of eyes on him; Watanabe is waiting for a response. Though he’s pretty sure Watanabe knows that he doesn’t have anything to say. He tries anyway. “What do you mean?”

“Illegal dream sharing,” Watanabe begins with a wry smile. “Making fun of people.” He slowly brings his hand up to cover half his face but he doesn’t seem conscious about it. “Getting what I wanted through forceful and unethical means. I was pretty horrible right?” 

For a brief second, the dots in Miyadate’s mind connect, forming a story but it splits as soon as it forms and Miyadate is thrown back into a clueless state. “I don’t remember,” he admits honestly and Watanabe lets out a broken laugh.

“Is that why you dreamt about the eighteen year old me? Because you don’t remember and think you’re so in love with every part of me at every stage of your life?” Watanabe stops himself abruptly and Miyadate can see his lower lip quivering. “Why? I was a horrible person.”

“I don’t know.” Miyadate isn’t lying. “All I can remember is seeing good in you and falling hopelessly in love. I don’t remember what you did, Shota. I really don’t. But I remember loving you. I really do. And I remember that it was one of the happiest times in my life.”

There’s a period of silence before Watanabe speaks again. “Really?” He asks in barely a whisper as Miyadate walks over to hug him and Watanabe leans his chin over Miyadate’s shoulder ever so naturally.

“Really,” Miyadate affirms. “You really don’t know how much I loved you back then, do you?” He feels Watanabe shaking his head and he nods understandingly. “I wasn't good with words or expressing my feelings. You knew that.”

“I don’t know how much you love me now,” Watanabe says suddenly, voice wavering and he bites back a sob.

And all Miyadate does is sigh. He doesn’t blame his husband. Really. “I’m still not good at... talking.”

“I know that. I knew and I know.” It seems like the tables have turned and Miyadate is the one needing comfort and reassurance now. “But I just want to hear it sometimes.”

This is as far as a direct as Watanabe would be and Miyadate isn’t as oblivious as he had been in high school. It’s always been easy to read Watanabe; the older man’s face is like fractals reflecting the colours of the rainbow, changing according to his mood. Miyadate’s just never been good at reading the signs. He’s gotten better at it over the years though.

And he really wants to say it - I love you. But he doesn’t and Watanabe just sighs in resignation.

Halfway into the night, Miyadate’s expecting Watanabe to talk about having a divorce. The suggestion never comes and Miyadate feels a little better about himself because that means Watanabe still has hope left for them and that’s all he wants from his husband for now.

 

Totsuka suggests ‘dream therapy’ to them. It isn’t exactly a legitimate way yet but it’s somewhat credibility, having worked for many other patients before. And seeing as they both have experience in creating dreams or being part of them, it’s something they could try. It’d be worth a try.

While they could do it by themselves, Totsuka recommends a group of professionals to advise them on how they should go about with this treatment. They would be left to their own devices after some time later or whenever they requested.

Miyadate’s the designated dreamer, since he’s the one confused about dreams and reality. It’s almost the same as when he’s dreaming alone, except this time, Watanabe’s with him. The real Watanabe. Along with a group of professionals watching over them while they sleep but they aren’t really important, not to Miyadate at least, not when Watanabe’s with him.

They’re in Taiwan, at a night market. Garish neon lights decorate some stalls, awkward and out of place to Miyadate but that's how he remembers the street. The majority of the crowd is walking against their direction. One or two other couples are going the same way as them. Not that it matters – they’re all merely nameless and faceless people; projections of Miyadate’s mind.

A couple of shoves here and there and Miyadate decides that they need to get out of the way of the crowd before he starts losing control like the previous time. So he grabs hold on to Watanabe’s hand, not realising that the other has been looking around in awe and mild curiosity, and pulls him through the crowd.

“This place is awfully vivid. You've been here before?” It isn’t the right time for conversations because Miyadate might lose concentration but he figures that it should be okay since Watanabe is here to help him.

The question is a simple one, something that Miyadate can answer easily. Yet he doesn’t say a word. _I have, but not with you._ These words threaten to leave his mouth, hanging on the tip of his tongue. In the end, he stays silent, dragging Watanabe pass the sea of strangers and into a less crowded area.

“So?” Sometimes Miyadate forgets how persistent Watanabe can be. “Have you been here before? I always thought I knew about all your dreams and the places you've been to before.”

“Yes, I've been here before.” And that is all Miyadate wants to say but Watanabe is giving him an inquiring gaze that forces him to speak. “I came here with one of your projections. The good one.”

“You mean the submissive one?” Watanabe corrects instantly and Miyadate winces at the usage of the word ‘submissive’ but nods. It’s what he told the psychiatrist and Watanabe in the first place anyway.

Not wanting to dwell on this topic for too long, Miyadate opts for nodding and, thankfully, Watanabe doesn’t pursue the subject any further either.

During the rest of their time in the night market, they try various kinds of food. The taste and flavours of the food remains the same as Miyata remembers them in reality. Watanabe dislikes half of them and ends up shoving piece after piece into Miyadate’s mouth. For those which Miyadate has never tried before, he imagines their taste to suit Watanabe’s, and Watanabe happily gobbles this bunch all up.

At the end of the night, Watanabe turns to face Miyadate and smiles. “Bring me here one day?” Watanabe suddenly says, his lips curved upwards. “Okay?” 

The scene feels familiar but this time Miyadate’s gives a verbal response. “Okay,” he says and he intends to keep that promise.

 

They go to Paris some nights later, with various other real and imaginary places in between, and it’s still as beautiful as Miyadate remembers.

Miyadate’s getting better – Watanabe can tell and Totsuka has confirmed that as well.

This time, Watanabe’s the dreamer.

“There’s probably new stuff around here,” Watanabe comments as he takes a look at his surroundings, casually growing more flowers along a walkway.

Miyadate hums in agreement as he watches Watanabe work, constructing the place like he was born to be an architect. This is the first time he’s seeing Watanabe at work and he’s completely enraptured. While Miyadate has seen Watanabe building things out of nothing in dreams before, they were mostly imaginary places with bits and pieces of reality for them to relax and have fun together. 

But this is different. Watanabe’s concentrating and effortlessly making skyscrapers rise from the ground. Maybe because Watanabe’s thinking of this as a job. Well, technically, it is his job to help Miyadate recover.

The past few sessions have been successful. Miyadate stops thinking about his dreams and doesn’t have as many panic attacks as before. Most importantly, he doesn’t dream about his projections of Watanabe anymore. Some part of him still misses them, one of them, maybe even two, but he’s learning to let go. 

During the previous sessions, there were other people around giving Miyadate a dream scenario, so there was a certain degree of control implemented. Now, there’s only two of them

It’s quite exhilarating and Miyadate feels a little out of breath.

 _‘He’s really good’_ , Miyadate can’t help but think. And he mentally pats himself on the back when he doesn’t feel a wave of jealousy crushing him to pieces upon realising how capable his husband is.

A table transforms into a fountain in front of Miyadate, causing him to splutter. “How did you do that?” Miyadate’s never been able to remould objects in his dreams.

This makes Watanabe laugh as he continues filling the fountain with water and decorating the object with engravings. “Just.” He smiles as he successfully carves out a rose. “Imagine.”

Not wanting to distract Watanabe (although Miyadate isn’t sure if Watanabe considers conversation a distraction seeing how good he is at what he does and how much he enjoys talking), Miyadate stays silent until the fountain is complete in pattern.

“You can try it out sometimes,” Watanabe suggest, giving Miyadate a look.

Finding the idea ridiculous, Miyadate laughs while shaking his head. “No way.” He still remembers the last time he constructed a dream for them both - a building nearly crushed Watanabe. That was what made them engage other professionals to help them in dream construction, until Watanabe felt that they were ready and capable of handling their problem by themselves.

“I’m not afraid of dying in dreams, Ryota,” Watanabe says as if reading Miyadate’s mind and grabs hold of his hand to give it a squeeze for reassurance.

Miyadate gives him a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes but all Watanabe does is throw his head back in laughter, causing his own projections to stop and stare. They shouldn't be attracting so much attention so Miyadate sends Watanabe a warning look and the latter promptly keeps quiet. The projections stop looking and continue walking around but Watanabe is still smiling stupidly at Miyadate.

Before Miyadate can ask ‘what is it’, Watanabe’s already answering him. “I’m going to put a real smile on your face by the end of this dream.”

 

They act like tourists and try escargot, failing miserably because Watanabe, being the ever-fussy eater, imagines them to be not to his liking, which is perfectly fine because he doesn’t like more than half the food in the world. But he also imagines it to not suit Miyadate’s taste.

“You’re the worst,” Miyadate complains and sticks out his tongue, face scrunching up as he feels the aftertaste in his mouth.

Before him, Watanabe’s downing a whole bottle of mineral water and shooting him a glare. He finishes it and leaves none for Miyadate.

Staring at Watanabe incredulously, Miyadate walks over to the fountain and drinks from it, causing Watanabe to burst out into laughter. Miyadate smiles with a mouthful of fountain water as he makes his way back to Watanabe’s side.

“You’re smiling,” Watanabe points out, a playful grin dancing on his lips.

Maybe he’s been smiling this whole time already. Just that Watanabe decides to reveal it only now. Miyadate wouldn’t put his husband past that.

 

“Maybe we should go to Paris,” Watanabe says out of the blue when they’re sitting on a bench in the middle of a green field on a sloping hill.

“We are in Paris,” Miyadate points out and Watanabe chuckles, having already expected that answer.

“No. I mean. Like. Go to Paris for real.”

Not anticipating that suggestion, Miyadate is rendered speechless as he opens and closes his mouth a few times. But Watanabe’s as persuasive as ever. The older boy’s eyes are glistening with fresh tears ready to fall any moment and he’s looking at Miyadate with that kicked puppy expression.

“Okay,” Miyadate agrees quickly, afraid that Watanabe’s projections might start attacking him for upsetting their dreamer. “Okay,” he repeats to hear his own voice to tell himself that this is a real promise.

However, his consensus does not stop the tears from rolling out of Watanabe’s eyes, sending Miyadate into a panic. He cups Watanabe’s face in his hands and looks around frantically, genuinely afraid that Watanabe’s projections are going to jump him any time for making their dreamer cry. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Did I upset you?”

“I miss you,” Watanabe sobs, unable to stop his voice from catching.

With tender eyes, Miyadate says, “I miss you too,” and then holds Watanabe’s chin, tilts it upwards and seal their lips together.

 

It’s very late when they wake up from their Paris dream and they prepare for bed. Though ironically they have just woken up from a very deep sleep. They don’t say anything to each other when they open their eyes - they don’t usually talk after dreaming together. But this time, there’s a change – Miyadate’s hand finds Watanabe’s and they stay like this for a while until Miyadate lets go and goes straight to the toilet to wash up. Watanabe goes in after he comes out.

Quite a long while later, what with Watanabe’s nightly skin rituals and all, he walks out of the bathroom to find Miyadate all snuggled up on the bed, comforters thrown over his body, his face buried in the pillow. Still standing at the entrance of the bathroom, Watanabe watches Miyadate sleep peacefully and he feels relaxed. Then Miyadate turns, facing Watanabe.

“I still love you, you know?” Miyadate murmurs in such a soft voice and in such a nonchalant manner that Watanabe isn’t sure if it is meant for him to hear. His eyes are still closed. It looks like he’s sleeping and just sleep-talking.

A soft gasp escapes Watanabe and he swiftly brings his hand to cover his mouth. Meanwhile, Miyadate resumes his previous position and after some time, his breathing evens out.

Knowing Miyadate, however, the words are definitely meant for Watanabe’s years. Otherwise, he wouldn't even have said it out loud. Miyadate is a shy guy; Watanabe has known that since they were three. Plus, Miyadate doesn’t sleep-talk. Neither of them do.

Watanabe doesn’t know how long he spends standing at the same spot, doesn’t know how much time has passed before he quietly leaves the room, all intentions of dozing off in Miyadate’s embrace forgotten.

Going to the living room, he picks up the house phone before sitting on the floor and slumping against the couch. Hastily, he keys in a familiar set of numbers before pressing the phone to his ear, waiting for Fukazawa to pick up.

“Hello?” Comes Fukazawa’s sleepy voice and Watanabe feels slightly guilty for waking his best friend up. But this is important.

“He said he still loves me. He said…” Watanabe chokes and finds himself tongue tied. Biting his hand, he tries to stifle his sobs but fails miserably and decides to just cry all out into the mouthpiece of the phone. “He loves me.”

Fukazawa chuckles from the other side. “Don't be silly, Shota. Of course he still loves you. Of course he loves you.”

“But he - ”

“I know,” Fukazawa says happily. “I know, Shota. Don't be stupid. He said he loves you, I know.”

What Fukazawa says is true and deep down Watanabe knows it too but he can’t seem to comprehend that at the moment. He’s about to say something when he hears another voice, albeit distant, at Fukazawa's end of the line.

_“Fukka, who's that?”_

Iwamoto. He hears Fukazawa shushing the younger boy and smiles. It is nice hearing them being so happy together. Once, he had been this happy and he’s all the more determined to get back that happiness now.

“Hey, Fukka, I think I’m going to sleep now. I’ll call you another day,” Watanabe interrupts the conversation which he no longer wants to hear. He doesn’t need to know what a sleepy Iwamoto calls Fukazawa.

“Go back into his arms and have sweet dreams,” Fukazawa teases and then promptly bursts out laughing and that's where Watanabe cuts the line, not wanting to listen to any of Fukazawa's lewd jokes.

Basking in the silence for a while, Watanabe thinks back to Miyadate’s words.

_“I still love you, you know?”_

Counting to three in his mind, Watanabe starts taking deep breaths. “He said he loves me…” mutters Watanabe as tears start welling in his eyes again. “He said he loves me.”

It’s like time passes so slowly as Watanabe sits there, hugging his knees, pillowing his face on the soft cushion on the sofa as his tears wet the velvet material. The room is quiet and the air is still. Inside Watanabe’s head, a soft melody he remembers from a bookshop during their Paris honeymoon plays, lulling him to sleep. He doesn’t know how long he stays that way but he snaps out of it when he hears quiet footsteps.

Pretending to sleep, Watanabe shuts his eyes but holds his breath when he catches a whiff of a familiar and comforting smell.

“Shh,” Miyadate whispers, cradling Watanabe in his arms.

Unable to stop himself, Watanabe sobs in Miyadate’s arms. He doesn’t realise he is repeating the same phrase over and over again until Miyadate shushes him gently once more.

“You still love me,” Watanabe chokes out, in a clearer voice this time.

“Of course I do,” Miyadate assures him in an affection tone as he cups Watanabe’s face and presses a kiss to the bridge of the latter's nose. “Of course I still love you.”

“But you dream when I’m around.” It’s difficult to stop crying, Watanabe realises, especially when the source of his pain is holding him like he loves him so much.

“Shota,” Miyadate begins with a sigh. “I told you. This is, was, my own problem. It’s not your fault…”

“But - but - ” Watanabe’s voice breaks. “It makes me sad.”

Seeing Watanabe like this and hearing his broken voice pains Miyadate thoroughly, even more so because he knows that it’s his fault.

“Oh, Shota,” Miyadate murmurs as he presses their foreheads together. “I thought I was the one with a problem?”

“But seeing you like this is making me sad,” Watanabe sniffs as tears continue falling from his eyes.

“What am I going to do with you?” Miyadate asks though he doesn’t really expect an answer and Watanabe just sobs.

Only when Watanabe is fast asleep on Miyadate’s shoulder does the latter carry Watanabe back to their room. He cradles Watanabe in his arms and kisses his forehead before whispering a soft _goodnight_.

 

They could go to Paris for real. Nothing's stopping them. No work, no people. It’s just them.

But before that, there’s something Miyadate wants to accomplish.

 

Miyadate gives it one more shot - taking on the role of a dreamer.

“Wow,” Watanabe gushes as he stares at the vast green landscape. “Is this real?” He takes his watch out from his bag and smiles at the clock surface. “Of course it’s just a dream,” he tells himself with a hearty chuckle.

Turning around, Watanabe sees Miyadate doing the same thing, checking whether this is a dream. They both obviously don’t have faith in Miyadate’s ability to construct such a beautiful place so it only seems natural for Miyadate to confirm that it’s truly a dream by using his totem. Except Miyadate is touching his wedding ring and Watanabe frowns. 

“Ryota, what are you doing?” Watanabe asks, walking over and stopping in front of Miyadate, watching as the latter distorts the shape of his wedding band.

There’s some hesitation before Miyadate speaks. “Confirming that this isn’t reality?” His tone is shaky.

“Then why are you touching your wedding ring?” Watanabe drills and Miyadate pauses for a moment before moulding the ring into another shape. “Have you never wondered why there are two rings on your right hand this whole time? One’s our engagement ring that you’ve never taken off before and the other is…” Worry fills Watanabe’s voice and he keeps his watch back into his pocket.

“It’s our promise ring.”

“Yes I know but…” Watanabe bites his lower lip. “Isn’t it also your totem?”

Miyadate freezes in his ministrations, and looks down at the moulded ring in his hand before shaping it back and wearing it over his fourth finger on his left hand. He looks over to his other fourth finger and there, one ring lies above the other. Carefully, he plucks out the ring on top and touches the curved surface on the inside, finding it as smooth as any steel. Realisation hits him hard but he doesn’t panic. Instead, he smiles and touches the plain silver chain around his neck before taking it off and stringing the promise ring through before wearing it again. 

Suddenly everything becomes clearer and it’s like an imaginary weight has been lifted off Miyadate’s shoulders. It’s feels like a rock that has settled in his heart for a long time distinguishing into nothing.

“This is only just a dream.”

And for the first time in a long while, Miyadate is certain when he says that.

 

Paris is their next stop. The real Paris.

Somehow, they manage to get themselves a room in the same hotel they had stayed at during their honeymoon four years ago. Naturally, that’s where they head to first. 

Nothing feels rushed in contrast to how their lives had been in the past, especially after they had just gotten married. After their honeymoon back then, Miyadate has grown increasingly busy at work and had spent a ridiculous amount of time in his office. Meanwhile, Watanabe had been experiencing the same kind of busyness he had never felt before in his whole life. It had been like the world was against them - separating them on purpose, keeping them apart because they had gotten married on a crazy impulse.

“What are you thinking about?” Watanabe asks.

“Us,” Miyadate replies honestly.

“We'll be fine,” Watanabe says easily. “We are fine,” he corrects himself and it sounds like the truth to Miyadate. It doesn’t sound like they’re lying to themselves anymore. It’s a good feeling.

 

The door closes behind Miyadate and when he turns around, he finds Watanabe leaning against the door, smiling at him sweetly. Then Watanabe is opening his arms and tilting his head slightly to the left, beckoning Miyadate over for an embrace.

Without saying anything, Miyadate drops his bag on the floor and goes over to hug Watanabe, pressing a kiss to his husband's forehead.

“I love you.”

“Show me?” Watanabe teases, a mischievous glint twinkling in his eyes.

Gently, Miyadate lays Watanabe down onto the bed before slowly crawling over him and smiling down in bliss. A mirrored smile is reflected on Watanabe’s face and it has been too long since Miyadate feels this happy.

He kisses Watanabe like it’s their first time and holds Watanabe like it’s their wedding night. He touches Watanabe like his husband is the most precious thing in the world and stares at him like they have all the time in the world.

Miyadate doesn’t think he’s ever been out of love with Watanabe before, as he stares down at the other who’s looking back with twinkling eyes, winding his arms around Miyadate’s neck to pull him down for another kiss.

On the twenty-fifth floor in a Parisian hotel room, Miyadate falls in love over again and again.

 

The bed shifts, dips a bit and Miyadate sees Watanabe swinging his legs off the bed with bleary eyes. Instantaneously, as if on reflex, Miyadate grabs his husband’s arm.

“Where are you going?” Miyadate asks urgently, sounding panicky. “Don't go.”

“I just have work,” Watanabe assures him in a soothing voice and brushes Miyadate’s cheek, the action making the other relax visibly. “I’m not going to leave you, don’t worry.”

“Okay.” Taking in a deep breath, Miyadate repeats, Okay.”

Watanabe squeezes his arm in reassurance and goes to the bathroom to start washing up and getting ready for work.

He emerges from the bathroom moments later, all fresh and clean in only a bathrobe. From the bed, Miyadate watches with mild interest, more sleepy than awake. Pulling the bathrobe tie, Watanabe lets it fall to the ground and Miyadate notes with disappointment that Watanabe’s not completely naked underneath.

“Quit staring,” Watanabe scolds as he picks out an outfit. He approaches Miyadate with a reproaching look and Miyadate grins back shamelessly. “Something on your mind?” Watanabe changes the topic easily. For a while now, He’s been observing Miyadate for some time now and knows that his husband has been wanting to ask him something.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.” There it is. “Fukka told me something happened in the US.” He watches Watanabe’s face, trying to catch something in Watanabe’s expression but finds nothing. “What happened?”

Watanabe smiles sincerely and pats Miyadate’s cheek. “I’ll tell you when you get better.” 

The response prompts a grumble that Watanabe merely chuckles at. He flicks Miyadate’s forehead for no reason, causing Miyadate to groan as he starts rubbing at the sore spot. “I am getting better,” Miyadate protests and all Watanabe does is shake his head, his lips pressed into a stubborn line, signalling the end of the conversation and Miyadate has no choice but to comply.

“You’re making me late for work,” Watanabe laments even though he’s still on time. Also, Watanabe remains seated on the bed despite his complaint.

So Miyadate decides to give him a push. Literally.

The push sends Watanabe onto the ground on his butt and the older man yelps. Immediately standing up when he can, he starts whacking, or tries to whack Miyadate who is currently hiding under the covers. “You suck!”

“ _You_ suck,” Miyadate reminds him helpfully. Even with his voice muffled by the comforter, Watanabe hears him loud and clear, and gives Miyadate a hard kick which elicits a soft ‘oof’ from the younger man.

Disregarding Miyadate’s discomfort, Watanabe makes to leave. Though judging from the pained sound which Miyadate slips out, it must have must have hit a bone or something, maybe a precarious spot. “Now I’m really going to be late. I’ll be back for dinner. Don’t go back to sleep.” Having said that, Watanabe leaves.

At the sound of Watanabe’s footsteps growing softer, Miyadate shifts under the covers, wondering if it’s safe to come out now. He’s starting to need more oxygen. Peeking from underneath, Miyadate finds no sign of Watanabe. Kicking them away, Miyadate stretches lazily, enjoying how he can sleep in on Saturdays while Watanabe has work. It’s one of the downsides of working fulltime in the dream industry - you never really get to stop working. 

Turning, Miyadate’s eyes land on a familiar object. He looks at the PASIV machine with an unreadable expression.

 

Their anniversary is coming around the corner again. This year, Watanabe suggests celebrating for a week, eating at a posh restaurant every night. Miyadate isn’t averse to it, wanting to indulge them both.

Watanabe whines from the living room for Miyadate to hurry up, his voice so loud that it seems as if he’s just standing outside the door. Watanabe has an incredibly loud voice.

He’s getting better, Miyadate concludes as he looks at their wedding photo fondly.

_We'll go to places together in my wildest dreams._

 

 

Watanabe has made a reservation at a nice diner near their house that night. There’s a hint of gleam in his eyes when he talks to Miyadate and he can’t stop bouncing on his heels as he waits for his husband to change.

“What are you so happy about?” Miyadate asks, grinning as he picks a tie to wear.

He doesn’t get to choose though because Watanabe does it for him, selecting a plain black tie to match Miyadate’s maroon shirt. Pursing his lips, he loops it around Miyadate’s neck but his hands remain on the fabric, like he’s wondering what the next step is.

Chuckling lowly, Miyadate’s hand covers Watanabe’s. “I’ll take over from here.”

“No!” Watanabe argues petulantly and swats Miyadate’s hand away. “I can do it.” He sticks his tongue out a little as he concentrates and fumbles with crossing one side of the tie over the other and trying to remember what comes next.

Meanwhile, Miyadate picks a black tie for Watanabe. The other has just gotten back from work and is currently dressed in a plain white blouse, wearing a black lapel suit jacket over it and decked in black slacks. Miyadate knows Watanabe matches this attire to a pair of black formal shoes.

As Watanabe continues to struggle with Miyadate’s tie, Miyadate’s already done up Watanabe buttons despite the other's protest. With steady hands, Miyadate makes a cross with the tie and quickly knots it with dexterity. By the time he’s securing the tie in place, Watanabe’s still not done. From the reflection in the mirror, Miyadate spots a dead knot.

“Let me,” Miyadate finally says when Watanabe tries forcing the fabric through the dead knot.

Unrelenting, Watanabe leaves his stubborn hands in place until Miyadate laughs and pries them off.

“I would have done it quicker if you hadn't started this.” ‘This’ referring to the tie around Watanabe’s collar and he nods his chin down towards it before pouting at Miyadate when he sees a perfect triangle forming.

Quirking a brow, Miyadate tightens the tie with deft fingers and kisses Watanabe in an attempt to wipe the pout off his face. It doesn’t work, but it was worth a shot. “You should learn it someday. It’s a life skill.”

When Watanabe doesn’t stop pouting, Miyadate lifts his hand up to Watanabe’s chin and holds it with his thumb and forefinger. “Stop moping now, love.”

Blushing, Watanabe pulls away. “It’s easier to do it backwards,” he argues back, like usual, and Miyadate snorts.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s the occasion?”

Giggling, Watanabe inches closer like he’s about to kiss Miyadate but stops just before their mouths touch. “Happy anniversary,” is all Watanabe says before pressing their lips together in a sweet kiss before pulling away. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

“I lost track of the date but I got your present if that’s what you’re worried about.” Miyadate laughs when Watanabe gapes at him. Bullseye. “I’ll never forget our anniversary date or your present for the record.”

“Because you love me.”

“Because I love you.” Miyadate nods his head in affirmation. He holds his hand out to Watanabe. “Shall we?”

“Gross,” Watanabe complains with a smile on his face, teeth not showing but dimples appearing at both corners of his lips. 

He accepts Miyadate’s hand and they don’t separate until they reach the car. Reaching their destination, they walk into the restaurant holding hands happily.

As usual, Miyadate orders the food because he knows what’s good. But more importantly, he knows what Watanabe will eat and the quantity he has to order so that all the food will be finished without either of them feeling too hungry or too full. When that is done, Miyadate pulls out a small box from his pocket and places it on the table before pushing it towards Watanabe.

Excitedly, Watanabe picks the box up and opens it, revealing a very pretty watch. 

“It looks…” Watanabe stops there as he thinks about an identical watch lying in his bag. “Like my totem.”

“It’s different,” Miyadate assures him with a laugh but Watanabe already knows that. “You’re always complaining how you like that design so much but because it’s your totem you don’t get to wear it out of dreams in fear people might find out. So I got you the same one.”

“I thought it wasn't being sold anymore,” Watanabe says as he worries his bottom lip.

“I have my ways,” Miyadate answers with a smile as he fastens the watch over Watanabe’s left wrist. “Don't worry about the price. Happy anniversary, dear.”

“My turn now~” Watanabe sing-songs gleefully as he pulls out a golden box from the paper bag he has brought along and left by the table’s side on the floor. He sets it on the table before pushing it towards Miyadate, gesturing for him to open it.

“So secretive?” Miyadate jokes as he takes the box and opens the magnetic binding. There’s a purple cloth covering the object and Miyadate raises a brow at Watanabe who simply urges him to continue. When he unfolds the cloth, he finds an exquisite looking wine glass and smiles. It’s the glass he’s been wanting for a few weeks. He first saw it when he was out shopping with Watanabe one weekend. His husband must have noticed his interest and bought it on another day. How very thoughtful of him. “Thank you.”

“Thank you too,” Watanabe says, laughing as he lifts his hand and points at the watch.

“Now that we’re done exchanging presents, can I know what your big news is?”

Giving Miyadate a half smile, Watanabe takes a sip of wine before placing his hands on the table. “I got a job offer.” Silence from Miyadate tells Watanabe he can continue. “It’s a big project.” Watanabe lowers his voice since dream sharing isn’t exactly legislated yet. “It requires me to go the states.”

“How long?” Miyadate cuts in and Watanabe sighs, knowing he can’t beat around the bush forever.

“Just... two months?”

There’s a moment of silence that stretches into minutes until Watanabe starts feeling queasy and downs his glass of alcohol, earning himself a reprimanding look from Miyadate.

“Two months,” Miyadate repeats, more to himself but Watanabe nods his head in confirmation. “That’s a pretty long time.”

“I can come back as long as I get the job done. I might come back earlier.” 

And Watanabe sounds so hopeful that Miyadate doesn’t want to dash his ‘maybe plans’ with the next obvious thing he wants to say. He ends up saying it anyway, “And if you don’t, it'll take longer than two months, yes?”

Watanabe nods somewhat unsurely. “But I’ll definitely come back in time. I’m good at what I do, remember?”

For the rest of the night, they avoid talking about Watanabe’s departure, choosing to focus on the present instead. But there’s a nagging sensation in Miyadate’s heart telling him to ask his husband to stay. He chooses to ignore it since he’s in such a good mood, determined not to let anything, especially his own doubts and insecurities, come in his way of celebrating his anniversary with Watanabe. 

Especially not when Watanabe is smiling sweetly under him that night as Miyadate kisses him, pressing him into their soft mattress and feeling the bed dip under their weight.

 

There’s still some time before Watanabe leaves and Miyadate finds himself taking more days off than ever just so that he can spend more time with Watanabe. It’s the first time they’re going to be apart for such a long time. If Watanabe is going to somewhere nearer like South Korea or anywhere in Asia, maybe Miyadate wouldn’t worry so much. But Watanabe’s going all the way to the USA and that’s halfway across the globe.

Time difference, different schedules. With all that and other possible complications, they wouldn’t even get to text and Miyadate’s dreading it.

Miyadate has taken the whole week before Watanabe departs off. While Watanabe had been concerned at first, Miyadate assures him that he doesn’t have any other use for his annual leave anyway.

On the Sunday of the week that Watanabe’s supposed to leave, Miyadate and Watanabe find themselves buried under their covers, legs tangled with each other’s.

“Stop being such a puppy,” Watanabe scolds playfully when Miyadate noses at his neck for the tenth time that morning, or afternoon. They haven’t checked the time. “I’ll only be gone for two months; don’t be so dramatic about it,” he finishes the sentence at the same time Miyadate pulls him closer if that’s even possible.

“I’ll miss you,” Miyadate whines a bit and Watanabe’s body vibrates with laughter.

 

Tuesday finally comes round – Watanabe’s day of departure. They go to the airport late because Watanabe wants to stay in bed longer to cuddle Miyadate. Fukazawa’s voice on loudspeaker is what makes them both scramble to get changed and speed all the way to the airport.

When they arrive, Fukazawa has just gone through the departure gates and Iwamoto is watching until Fukazawa till he is out of sight while Abe and Sakuma are just about to leave. 

“Bye, Shota,” Sakuma says sadly for what must be the ten thousandth time and Miyadate groans, wondering if this is what Iwamoto had to go through and Abe sends him an apologetic smile. “Take lots of pics and buy lots of stuff back for me, okay?”

“Sakuma, we should get going. I think Ryota wants some privacy,” Abe tells Sakuma sheepishly and proceeds to drag his fiancée away. His face turns pale when Sakuma complains about wishing that he could go with Fukazawa and Watanabe as well.

When the couple are finally out of earshot, Watanabe tugs Miyadate’s sleeve. “Stop looking at them. I’m right here.”

Miyadate turns to Watanabe with soft eyes. “Eat well when you’re there, okay? They have gummies and coke in the states obviously but don’t eat too much of those. I won’t be there to monitor your diet or try out new food for you. Fukka might but don’t force him. Be reasonable, okay? And sleep well. Don’t watch too much TV or use the computer too much. Also - ” he’s forcefully stopped by a pair of warm lips against his.

Kissing back eagerly, desperately, they both forget to breath and Watanabe breaks away laughing, sucking in a lungful of air before attaching their lips together once more.

They’re standing near the departure gate, attracting more attention than necessary. They kiss goodbye until only a few minutes the boarding gate closes.

“Gonna run there,” Watanabe says with a tired smile. “I’ll text you when I land,” Watanabe promises and kisses Miyadate one last time before darting off in the opposite direction.

Only when Watanabe is out of sight does Miyadate turn to leave.

 

Two months pass by in a blur of late nights or early morning phone calls and mundane weekdays accompanied by lonely weekends. Miyadate usually went for drinks with Abe and Sakuma but he felt more like he was playing gooseberry so he stopped after a while. Hanging out with Iwamoto was fine because they both acted like they’ve been in a long distance relationship for years. Mostly, it was a very sad two months. That’s why Miyadate accepts Fukazawa’s invitation for a cup of coffee on a Saturday afternoon. He doesn’t even know Fukazawa has come back.

“I came back a week or so ago, can’t remember.” Trust Fukazawa to forget when he had gotten home. “My job finished earlier so I took the earliest flight back to stop Hikaru from whining into my ears every night.” He pours an unhealthy amount of sugar into his coffee and starts stirring, momentarily forgetting to talk. “Shota’s coming back tomorrow,” Fukazawa informs happily and Miyadate freezes.

“Has it been two months?” Miyadate asks after he recollects his composure.

“Exactly two months,” Fukazawa announces, sounding proud. “You know architects. They’re the dreamers so they have to stay till the end. Shota really did his best. But there was some accident along the way so…” he starts drinking his coffee and a brief expression of guilt flashes across his face.

Miyadate is about to take a sip when Fukazawa trails off, making Miyadate’s hands shake and he tries to steady them when placing his cup of coffee down on the saucer without having even taken a sip. The hot liquid swirls in the porcelain and both Fukazawa and Miyadate watch it until it settles.

They move on to other topics after that. Fukazawa tells Miyadate about his encounter with a bear cub in one of the parks on one of his off days among other things. He makes everything sound so dramatic that Miyadate starts to doubt him halfway but laughs to indulge him.

Narrowing his eyes at Miyadate, Fukazawa says, “You think I’m lying.”

“Not at all,” Miyadate laughs and Fukazawa aims a kick for his shin under the table.

“You can ask Shota when he’s back if you don’t believe me,” Fukazawa huffs and slouches in his seat before sitting upright almost instantly.

Not knowing what to say, Miyadate settles for a nod, wondering why he suddenly feels so awkward talking about Watanabe. They haven’t been speaking for a little over a week now.

“Well,” Fukazawa starts and makes to push himself up. “I should get going. Hikaru’s waiting for me.” He smiles at Miyadate and pats him on the shoulder, hand lingering longer than necessary before letting it slide down with a sigh. “Shota misses you like crazy.”

There is a pause as Fukazawa eyes Miyadate tentatively. He rests both his palms on the table and leans forward slightly so that Miyadate can hear him more clearly.

“Shota got into a little trouble in the states but he didn’t want you to worry so he didn’t say anything. That’s why halfway through our job, his phone calls and messages decreased drastically.”

That catches Miyadate’s attention as he tilts his head up to give Fukazawa a questioning look. From all their conversations during the past two months, Watanabe never once showed any signs of yearning to be by Miyadate’s side very badly at all. He sounded perfectly alright. On the other hand, Miyadate was silently suffering, not wanting to sound clingy and whiny, especially since Watanabe was so busy. Maybe there were signs but it was just that Miyadate was too caught up in his own misery to notice his husband’s distress.

He feels like a failure.

“You two have a good talk when he’s back, okay?” Fukazawa advises and pats Miyadate’s shoulder, hand resting there a little while longer than necessary as a gesture of comfort.

Miyadate smiles at him and nods, thanking Fukazawa, assuring the latter that he’s fine. Fukazawa leaves and Miyadate runs his fingers through his hair.

“Shota,” Miyadate mutters to himself.

 

Miyadate’s phone flashes and he looks over, seeing a message from Watanabe on the screen.

_I’m boarding soon, Ryota! I miss you. Can’t wait to see you. Pick me up? :3 I land around 9?~ See you soon. Love you <3_

After a while of staring at the message, Miyadate starts to type out a reply. His face remains passive as he punches the letters on his keyboard and he feels a bit like a monster.

_I miss you too, Shota. I’ll be there around 8 then. Love you too._

Thumb hovering over the ‘send’ button, Miyadate ponders over pressing it or not. He ends up sighing heavily before exiting the messaging page. While his face shows nothing about how happy he is to see his husband again, deep down, he really misses the other. But it’s like someone’s watching and he doesn’t dare to show his true emotion on his face in case it gets taken away.

There’s also an inexplicable feeling rising in his chest and he doesn’t know why he feels that way. Is he scared to see his husband again after such a long time? Is he worried? Anxious? They parted on good terms though, with Watanabe kissing him senseless at the airport and they kept in constant contact all this time. So there’s absolutely no reason for him to feel anything but happiness. Yet he does.

And it sickens him to the core.

He can’t stop the negative feelings suddenly pouring in all at once and engulfing him completely. Eating him from the inside and consuming his entire being, reducing him to a weak, boneless body lying limp on the bed.

He curls up, pulling his knees to under his chin and he feels five again, scared of monsters crawling out from under his bed with no one there to hold his hand and assure him that everything will be alright.

Taking in deep breaths, Miyadate tries to calm himself down, unable to comprehend why he’s feeling this way and resents himself for it. The agitation is building up too fast, too much and Miyadate feels suffocated. In the next moment, he gets off the bed and closes on the bedside table, pulling open the second drawer but he finds that it’s lock and his breathing speeds up.

Trying to think about where the key might be, Miyadate doesn’t realise he has taken off his wedding ring and is now grasping it tightly in his hand. Then he remembers and rushes to the closet, putting his ring back on before roughly opening the door and taking out a box. Hurriedly, he flips through the contents, not caring about the mess he’s making and heaves a sigh of relief when he finds a small plastic bag. In it, there’s a small key and with fumbling hands, he takes it out and quickly goes back to kneel in front of the bedside table to unlock the drawer.

This time when he pulls, the drawer opens easily and he smiles sadly at the only item contained inside - a plain silver ring. It’s his promise ring with Watanabe. They made it together when they were teens. Watanabe has the exact same one. The only difference is that this is Miyadate’s totem and he had engraved words and numbers on its inner circle to differentiate it from Watanabe’s. 

Slowly, he removes it from the drawer and wears it on the fourth finger on his right hand, above his engagement ring. He doesn’t want to do this, but he doesn’t know any other way of coping with his nervousness.

The last time he had connected himself to the PASIV machine, he had gotten a warning from all his close friends to never do it again, along with reassurance that Watanabe wouldn't find out. Yet Miyadate can’t stop himself from approaching the dream machine and fumbling around for a syringe he knows is lying nearby. With shaky hands, he fills the syringe with Somnacin before locating his vein and jabbing the needle in.

Miyadate lies on the bed after connecting himself to the PASIV machine and he rests his left hand above his right, the three rings touching each other. When he closes his eyes and waits for sleep to take over him completely, he moves his hand a bit, knocking the rings together and suddenly, he can’t remember which one his totem is.

It’s the wedding ring. It must be, Miyadate thinks, convinces himself as he goes lax and his mind goes into a rest.

And then he dreams.

 

 

The door slams shut and it jolts Miyadate from his daydream.


End file.
